Word of the Day
by Kainos Ktisis
Summary: Because I'm an English nerd. An eclectic collection of oneshots inspired by Dictionary-dot-com's Word of the Day. Cloti. Mostly canon-verse.
1. Tintinnabulation

A/N: Hehehe...I'm such an English nerd. So I was looking at the Word of the Day on and to my great amusement, tintinnabulation was the word. There is only one appropriate use for such an awesome word, so I let my hands do the talking. Thus the birth of this little oneshot.

My goal for this collection is to take the word of the day, give myself a limited amount of time, and then poof! Oneshot love for the masses. Granted I can only do this when I actually have the time, but I think it'll be a fun little project that will force me to write better under pressure.

This collection's genre will range widely and the content will have little to no continuity.

So yeah, read, learn a new word, and review! Thanks.

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**WORD OF THE DAY  
**

**Tintinnabulation**

_n. a tinkling sound, as of a bell or bells._

Unlike most people in the working force, Monday was usually Tifa's day to sleep in. After all, owning a popular bar and working as bartender in said bar meant late nights, especially over the weekend. Most people were still too hungover or too exhausted from work to really have the heart to party on Mondays. Hence, why she allowed herself the little pleasure of taking Mondays off.

But the luxury of sleeping in was one that she was granted only recently.

In the past, even though she took Monday off, she still had to wake up early to bring the kids to school. Regardless of how tired she was, she would never be so irresponsible as to let two children under ten walk to school by themselves. She loved them too much for that. That and her maternal instincts would never let her conscience be.

But, all that changed one day two months ago.

It had been an unusually busy—and rowdy—Sunday night at the bar. It was rare that anybody—inebriated or not—would dare start a fight in _her_ bar, but for some reason or another, all the idiots in town had gathered in the Seventh Heaven that night. Several brawls broke out sporadically throughout the night, which proved disastrous for all the breakable and mobile things in the bar. Nor did it help alleviate the growing ache in Tifa's head.

In the end, she had had to knock a couple drunkards unconscious herself before she herded everyone out the door with the threat of bodily harm. By that time, the first traces of breaking dawn had already appeared in the distance, and the drained barmaid didn't find herself in bed until the glow of the morning sun illuminated everything in a pale shroud of light.

Needless to say, she had passed out immediately.

And so when the faint tintinnabulation of clanging metal drifted into her ear canals at seven in the morning, the only appropriate description of her response would be an animalistic growl.

She stumbled out of bed with a less-than-graceful tumble, taking half of the comforter to the floor with her. Running a frustrated hand through the tangled mess her hair had become, she slowly and drowsily made her way out her bedroom door and down the stairs—a dangerous venture for someone in her state of consciousness—only to find herself staring at a rather unusual sight.

Namely, a young man by the name of Cloud Strife—donned in a frilly pink apron that Yuffie had given her one year as a gad gift which she never wore for the simple fact that it was pink—digging through the cupboards—hence the clanging pots and pans she realized—for God knows what and looking rather lost at that.

"What in the name of all that is good are you doing, Cloud?"

His head swiveled in her direction and his bright blue eyes were wide open with surprise. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but think that he looked a startled chocobo. The sleep deprivation didn't help much to control her giggling.

By the time she had regained her composure though, Cloud was already by her side and had placed his hands firmly on her shoulders to guide her back to her room.

"What are you doing Cloud?"

"Go back to sleep."

"I'm already up, and Denzel and Marlene need to leave soon for school. I still have to make breakfast."

"_You_ have to get more sleep."

"But—"

"I'll make breakfast and get the kids to school."

"Huh?"

He had to chuckle at the utterly confused expression plastered on her adorably drowsy face. She was obviously still far from fully awake. "You sleep. I cook."

He pressed a hand to the small of her back as he half pushed, half directed her to her bed. She put up little resistance although her sluggish mind still hadn't quite grasped what was happening while Cloud tucked her into her covers and pecked her gently on the forehead.

"Get some more sleep, Tifa."

She mumbled something incoherent before the sweet embrace of sleep once again overwhelmed her senses.

...

Tifa panicked for the briefest moment when she glanced at the bedside clock several hours later feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the world. She rushed downstairs calling out Denzel and Marlene's names before the note tacked onto the refrigerator caught her eye.

"_Breakfast is in the microwave. I don't have many deliveries, so I can pick up the kids today. I'll see you in a couple hours. Hope you slept well. - Cloud"_

A gentle smile touched her lips, and she thanked all that was good in the world for restoring the family she thought she had lost for good. After all, it had always been the little things that mattered most.

Hence, every Monday after that, Tifa always indulged in the little pleasure of being pampered. Cloud, eager to take his place in this family, was happy to oblige.

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A/N: Btw, this was yesterday's word, but I started writing it late last night before getting sidetracked by my other responsibilities, so I think it's okay that I'm posting this a day late.


	2. Misprize

A/N: Wow, thank you so very much for the response! I'm glad people are liking the idea behind this collection. It's definitely been fun writing it so far. Hope you all will continue to join me in my nerdiness! Lol. jkjk.

You know the drill. Read, learn a new word, enjoy and review! Thanks!

**Disclaimer**: I realized I forgot to do this in my last chapter and I'm too lazy to go back to add it, so I'm putting it here. Final Fantasy VII, Advent Children, and whatever else I might mention from that universe belongs to Square Enix. I really own very little. Even credit of the chapter titles go to Dictionary-dot-com.

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**WORD OF THE DAY (9/19)  
**

**Misprize **

_Vt. **1.** To hold in contempt **2.** To undervalue._

In the two years between the Meteor and the Geostigma crises, Tifa had grown accustomed to people constantly asking her why.

The subject of such questions often varied along a large spectrum, and the gravity of such was equally diverse.

There were those questions regarding her lifestyle, like why she chose to open a bar of all things. Why she cut her hair, and sometimes, people even questioned why she tied herself down with two children when she was in the prime of her life.

Her answers to these types of questions also differed greatly depending on whom the questioner was and under what circumstances such queries were posed. But, more often than not, she'd simply laugh and say "because I wanted to."

Then there were those questions that strike a chord of nausea in the pit of one's stomach, those questions that sends shivers of discomfort through one's spine, those questions that pierce straight to the heart of one's motives.

Those questions that asked her why she waited for a man who seemed to care only for his debts of the past. Why she didn't despise a man who would take advantage of her kindness and thus misprize her. Why she could sacrifice so easily and care so deeply.

Always asking why.

If there was one thing these questions did do for her, it was that it honed her skills of avoiding a clear answer when she did not desire to reveal that particular aspect of her life to that particular person.

Of course, this didn't mean that she always had an answer, or if she did, she would often just smile that mysterious little smile that bordered on poignant content and satisfied resignation. Maybe she thought that no one else would understand. Or maybe _she_ didn't know either.

Whatever the case, she'd learned long ago not to allow her mood to be depressed by any question people might pose, no matter how sharp a pang it left in her heart. She fervently believed that her trust was not misplaced, nor was her heart.

And so several years later, when the world had returned to a state of quasi-peacefulness—as peaceful as any world filled with fallen people can get—and there were no longer any apocalypses to avoid; when he looked at her with those piercing blue eyes filled with an emotion too strong to be described with words from across the church; when his awe-filled and somewhat disbelieving gaze questioned her soundlessly as to why she had chosen him even though he was so undeserving and had hurt her so much in the past…her response was predictable.

She smiled brightly at him as each step brought her closer to the altar and her groom. There was no mystery, no hidden motive, no convoluted reasoning. Her answer was simple, as it always had been.

_Because I wanted to._


	3. Scion

A/N: Seriously, you guys are awesome. Thank you so much for the reviews. It really means a lot to me. Really.

Anyhow, classes have just started for the new school year (yes, I know. I'm _just_ starting. That's the quarter system for ya.). What does that mean for updates? I'm not sure yet. I have a lot of down time between classes, so maybe that will be my new jotting time. There's also a boyfriend now that I need to factor in in terms of availability. Don't worry though. Just cause there's a boy now doesn't mean I'll abandon my first love (aka writing). Just don't tell him that. Lol.

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**WORD OF THE DAY (9/23)  
**

**Scion **

_n. **1.** A detached shoot or twig of a plant used for grafting. **2.** Hence, a descendant; an heir._

He'd been afraid to touch her.

The burden of past sins still weighed heavily upon his shoulders, and though progress forward was steady, it had been achingly slow. And the improvement—vast as it was—was still not enough for him to realize that his touch would not corrupt.

_And why wouldn't it?_ ran the thoughts in his head. He was a creation of evil, a scion of darkness. Into him had been poured every malignant desire, every impure thought. Why would his touch not burn? Why would his sins not transfer unto another when the sins of others had so easily been passed onto him?

And yet…as he gazed upon that innocent countenance, that strikingly genuine set of eyes, the tangled knot in his heart that was slowly finding its ends loosened a fraction more.

He reached out to stroke her cheek, hesitantly, haltingly, but earnestly. The skin was soft, so soft that he pulled back quickly, afraid that his calloused hands would leave a scratched mark on her beautiful face. But he could not deny the overwhelming feeling of inexplicable joy that welled up from the pit of his stomach when she reached out her little hands and enclosed them over his scarred fingers.

She giggled.

It wasn't a musical laugh, or even one that would ring pleasantly in anyone's ears. Rather, it was a wet-sounding thing that more resembled something between a loud gurgle and a coughing fit.

But it was laughter nonetheless and the fact that _he_ had been the one to elicit such a reaction sparked an emotion in his heart that bordering on awe-inspired pride.

His hand ventured to touch her again, on her nose, her cheek, her forehead…She giggled her odd-sounding little giggle and the corners of his lips turned up in a smile.

His touch had not corrupted.

But really, he should have known it wouldn't. After all, as much as she was his child, she was _hers_ as well.

And God knows that his sins had never corrupted _her._


	4. Melee

A/N: Yay! Another one! Thank you all sooo much for the reviews! Really, you all are the bestest! Lol.

Anyway, I've been hit with a rather nasty flu, so if there's anything unintelligible near the end, that's your reason. Other than that, read, learn a new word, enjoy, and review!

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**WORD OF THE DAY ****(9/26)**

**Melee  
**

_n. **1.** A fight or hand-to-hand struggle in which the combatants are mingled in one confused mass. **2.** A confused conflict or mingling._

Cloud had very few possessions that he treasured. However, his fervor for these possessions was obvious through his meticulous care and willingness to spend an obscene amount of gil on the maintenance of such. Numbered among this group of possessions include his swords, his motorcycle, and of course—though not material—his family.

So yes, everyone knew that he had little for which he cared deeply, but the little that he did have, he guarded with a furious passion.

It was through this furious passion for that which belongs to him that Tifa first received any inklings of understanding the taciturn man's unspoken feelings. Though, perhaps the use of the word "inklings" in this instance would be rather misleading.

After all, it is not every day that one accidentally walks in on said man threatening an important part of the male anatomy off of a new customer for approaching _his_ woman with such lewd disrespect.

Then again, knowing that this man was none other than Cloud Strife, perhaps it _was_ a daily occurrence.

Regardless, though everyone knew of Cloud's innately possessively protective nature, none could have fathomed the extracted response when Yuffie—who else would do something quite so boldly idiotic?—stole an item of—she had thought—little importance from his possession.

The chaos that ensued was nothing short of epic. Or perhaps mock epic would be a more suitable description.

In any case, Yuffie found herself employing all manners of stealth and ninjitsu to the best of her abilities and still finding it difficult to escaped the enraged grasp of the determined delivery boy. Suffice to say that it was the longest five days of cat-and-mouse—far more dangerous too, for that matter—in which she'd ever found herself trapped. The only other incident that even came close to such fury was the time she stole one of Vincent's shoes.

How she managed to do that—and survive—remains a mystery to this day.

Finally out of places to hide, Yuffie gambled on the one person who could calm Cloud's rage to protect her. It was a dangerous venture, it being a place of such familiarity to Cloud, but she hoped against all hopes that the age-old adage that "the most dangerous place is actually the safest place" would prove true.

She really didn't fancy dying before she turned legal.

She burst through the doors of the Seventh Heaven with a ungainly stumble. "Tifa! Save me!"

The compulsive thief had not the grace to blush nor did she pay any heed to the many startled gazes she elicited from the patrons of the aforementioned bar. At this point, all she cared about was survival. (Funny, that in her hurry to escape from one person's wrath, she momentarily forgot about Tifa's own occasionally volatile temperament, especially when her business was involved…)

"Yuffie? What happened to you? You're a mess!" Tifa exclaimed.

The tactless ninja snorted. "What happened to me? Why don't you go ask your boy-toy?" Tifa blushed faintly, but before she could say anything, Yuffie had interrupted. "Actually, don't ask him. He'll probably blow everything out of proportion. God knows he's already doing _that_."

"What did you steal?" Tifa asked with a dead-pan expression.

"How'd you know?"

The barmaid raised a brow. The question was more how could she _not_ know.

The briefest moment passed before Yuffie relented. Too much time wasted! "Okay, so I _did _steal something. But, if you don't help me out quick, Cloud's gonna _steal_ my life!"

Any response she might have made was cut off by the sudden roar of a motorcycle engine followed by an ear-shattering crash as the doors were broken down. "I'm gonna kill you, Kisaragi!"

All heads turned in the direction of the new voice. There, standing angrily atop the fallen doors was a man who should have been familiar to most—if not all—the customers, yet something about his appearance was decidedly _off_.

Maybe it was the tattered state of his usually immaculate—even if horrendously dull—clothing, or maybe it was the palpable deluge of righteous fury that spilled from him in a torrential downpour which proved a sharp contrast to his normally reticent self that had people wondering what change had come over the resident delivery boy.

Then suddenly, almost collectively, a loud gasp hung in the air as everyone finally saw the difference. Greg, a regular, was the first to verbalize it. (Brave soul, that man.)

"What the hell happened to your hair?"

What happened to his hair indeed! What once stood tall as a proud testament of his nonconformist attitude now drooped sadly about his skull, the matted hair framing his face in a manner that was rather...feminine. No one dared make another noise as Cloud directed a rather fierce glare at the poor man who cowered back in fear as soon as the words left his mouth.

The ever fearless ninja squeaked her fear as she traversed the bar, knocking over chairs (and people) in her hurry to scramble to the back door. Cloud immediately followed also knocking down chairs (and people), and suddenly the whole bar was caught up in a confused melee. Each turned to his neighbor, decided something was there that he didn't like, and punched. (The alcohol likely did not help control their instincts.) Yuffie and Cloud, of course, led the mayhem.

All the while, an irritated tick had been forming—and quickening at an exponential rate—on Tifa's eyebrow. It was likely that time actually stopped when she finally exploded.

"What the _hell_ do you all think you're doing?!"

Immediate silence. Her glare had the best men cowering in fear, most of all the two culprits who started it all.

"Now what did Yuffie steal that's got you all worked up?"

Cloud's wide-eyed stare turned down to the ground as he mumbled something incoherent. Despite herself, Yuffie couldn't help but snicker. This was almost worth the five days of running away from a crazed Cloud.

"What's that?"

Cloud kicked the floor lightly with a sigh and finally brought his eyes back up to look at Tifa with the most adorably injured puppy expression she'd ever seen.

"She stole my hairspray."


	5. Panache and Verbiage

A/N: Wow. I fail. It's been what? A month or so since I last updated? Aiya. My apologies. But what can I say? The quarter system goes by so quickly, it's a real killer.

Thank you all tremendously for the amazing response this collection has gotten. I'm sorry I haven't been good about responding to reviews, but know that I love you all and I appreciate it a lot!

Anyhow, here's a short oneshot with 2! words. Kay doky, read, enjoy, learn a new word, and review!

...

**WORD OF THE DAY (9/28 and 9/29)  
**

**Panache  
**

_n. **1.** Dash or flamboyance in manner or style. **2.** A plume or bunch of feathers, esp. such a bunch worn on the helmet; any military plume, or ornamental group of feathers._

**Verbiage  
**

_n. **1.** An overabundance of words; wordiness. **2.** Manner or style of expression; diction._

Cloud Strife was a man of little color. From his drab everyday wear—a navy-blue cable-knit turtleneck vest set with black trousers—to his morose personality, everything about him practically screamed dull. Yet, it was also undeniable that _his_ type of dull was far from inconspicuous. With his ridiculously over-sized sword and equally over-sized motorcycle, not to mention hair that proved miraculous in its ability to retain its spiked form, he was anything but subtle.

And so goes another proof that he was nothing if not a living contradiction.

Yet, there were occasions—rare, unexpected occasions—when he would rise from his utterly monotonous existence and surprise everyone—though usually it was only the three other inhabitants of his home who would witness this strange phenomenon—with a sudden onslaught of excess verbiage, though these rare episodes usually only occurred when he was so nervous that his motor skills deteriorated to a state of non-stop sputtering.

Still, for the most part, he was a quiet man—both in terms of speech and tincture.

As such, it was only natural that Tifa would have found quite such amusement in response to an item of great interest that she found tucked safely away in the confines underneath Cloud's bed.

Her lips quirked upwards in a decidedly malicious fashion. Interesting indeed…

…

Cloud knew something was amiss the moment he stepped into his room.

The floor was too spotless and the clutter of papers on his desk too ordered. His sheets were pressed too neatly. The windows were too transparent. His closet was too organized. It could only mean one thing: Tifa had been spring-cleaning.

His eyes widened fractionally at the thought, and he suddenly dove beneath his bed in search of the boxes he had stored there. He groaned when he was met with nothing but a grand expanse of squeaky-clean wooden floor. There goes another notch of his self-respect.

"Looking for something?"

"Ow!" Her voice startled him so much that he smacked his head on the bed frame in his haste to turn around.

Her chuckling did nothing to assuage his wounded pride. He eased himself out from under the bed and collapsed in a sitting position against the bed with an exasperated sigh. A quick glance—glare, really—told him that Tifa had a poorly suppressed grin plastered on her unrepentant face while leaning leisurely against the door post. And in her hands was that abomination he had tried so hard to hide.

"I know what people say about your hair, but don't you think a full-on chocobo suit is a little much?"

He responded with a lengthy groan. He didn't need to see her to hear the smirk in her voice. With a glower that only had power enough to trigger an amused laughing fit, he mumbled, "That was supposed to stay under my bed until it rotted."

"Let me guess. Battle square?"

His eyebrows rose in a fashion that clearly questioned how she knew.

"Where else would you get something this ridiculous?"

He grunted in acknowledgment before quietly adding, "Dio is an idiot."

"This coming from the one who chose a chocobo suit as a prize."

"...It's not like I got it on purpose. The prize list called it a Chocobo Panache. I thought it'd be something like a Phoenix Pinion…"

"Which it obviously isn't."

The sarcasm in his returning glare said something along the lines of, _Because I didn't notice that._

Tifa shrugged with a smile. "So why didn't you just throw it out?" A mischievous gleam snuck into her eyes to which Cloud subconsciously gulped. "Unless you really _were_ planning on wearing it sometime."

His eyes widened in a mixture of dismay and incredulity. "What?! I just didn't want that thing to be sticking out of our garbage. I don't want to be associated with it in any way, shape, or form."

She chuckled at his melodramatically animated response—a rare occurrence indeed—before holding the suit at arm's length with a thoughtful look. "You know, if you really don't want it, I'll take it."

He stared at her with a look of abject horror. "Why?!"

She smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

…

A couple of days later, Cloud found himself delivering a package to Barret in Corel.

"Who's it from?" asked the big man.

Cloud shrugged. "Didn't leave a name. The sender just dropped it off at one of my pick-up spots."

Barret poked at the box skeptically before ripping the cardboard off the top without preamble. "What the hell is this supposed to be?" he exclaimed as he pulled a fluffy, bright yellow, one-piece chocobo suit from the box.

Cloud made a motion with his mouth that closely resembled something of a fish as Barret picked up the note that had fluttered out.

_Hey Barret. I remembered how much you liked that sailor suit back then. Hope this helps add to your costume collection. – Tifa_


	6. Euphonious

A/N: Yay! I'm done with midterms! That means I'm basically home-free until finals....Actually, that's not really true. I have two short papers, three ultra short papers, and one geography project I have to do in between. Still, for all intents and purposes, I feel like I'm done. Hahah....probably not a good mentality to be in. Anyhow, hopefully that means I'll get more inspiration to update stuff.

Thanks for all the reviews, dearies! I'm always super encouraged to read them.

Alright, so that's enough from me. Read, enjoy, learn a new word, and review!

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**WORD OF THE DAY (10/18)**

**Euphonious  
**

_Adj. Pleasing or sweet in sound; smooth-sounding._

He'd had an ear for music ever since he was a child.

He remembered that the first time he heard the gentle tingling of a piano drift over from a window on the second floor of his neighbor's house, he had been fascinated and his attention stolen. Granted, there was nothing great about the sound. Now that he reflected upon that pivotal moment in his life, he realized that the pianist—if she could be considered such at the time—who'd produced those hesitant couple of notes was just a little girl learning how to play piano for the first time.

Still, at the tender age of six, he thought it was the most euphonious thing he'd ever heard.

His heart broke when his mother told him that she did not make enough money to get him a piano teacher, but he found consolation by sitting outside his neighbor's home with his back against the wall whenever the little girl practiced. He would lose himself in the melodies, sometimes quick and playful, other times slow and mournful, still other times full and grand; no matter what song it was, he found himself swept away in torrents of emotion evoked by that young, but talented little girl.

And so for many years, day after day without fail, at precisely 4:03 to 5:08 pm, he would sit outside her window, reveling in harmonies refined by years of diligent practice.…

The two years he spent working to make it into SOLDIER had been hard, the difficulty magnified by the fact that he was bereft of that hauntingly beautiful piano to which he had grown so attuned. So when he returned to Nibelheim during that fateful mission, the first thing he'd done was sit by her bedroom window and relish in the stunningly sublime sensations that she created. Two years found her music matured to a poignant elegance that stole the air from his lungs.

That last stolen bit of intimacy was all that kept him alive in the four years of being experimented on that had followed. Even—or especially?—in his state of semi-awareness and the constant dreamlike trance in which his mind perpetually floated, her music echoed in his ears and flooded his senses with pleasure.

Her music was a constant reminder that there was still beauty in this world, just like she herself was a reminder that there was hope….

He glanced over when he heard her call his name. She looked at him with inquisitive eyes—eyes that almost spoke as much as her music did—before frowning when she realized that he'd not been listening to what she'd been saying.

His nostalgic smile melted away her frown. He nodded to indicate that he had been listening. She cocked her head to one side skeptically, but when he squeezed her gently around her waist to prod her to continue recollecting her day, she relented with a giggle. She warned with amusement in her tone that he'd better listen this time.

He nodded. Oh, he was listening indeed! Her words faded away until all that there was left was the soothing undulations of her melodic voice pouring into his ears and enrapturing him in a moment of bliss.

He had not heard her play piano since the Nibelheim incident, but as he held her close to him on the couch, he found that the music of her voice was so much more beautiful than any symphonic composition in the world.

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Shout-outs (because I fail in responding personally to reviews...this list goes back to everyone since the beginning. Thanks for those of you who review multiple chapters!):

**Qwi-Xux, **DreadPirateSephy, **h. luna,** MissGreenPeace, **JingYee**, DarKxKunoichi, **ishmaranara**, Fairheartstrife, **macalaniaprincess,** Hikaru Mutou, **Sacred3**, melody-ruin, **Summoner Yuki**, Astaya, **Oceanee, **randomcat23, **xSummonerYunax**, GossipGirlxoXo, **Nentikobe,** et cetera et cetera, **HesitantPen 13**

Aite. Hope I didn't miss anyone. Thanks again!


	7. Bivouac and Gloaming

A/N: Yay, another twofer. This one is a bit more on the depressing side, but hey, life ain't all fun and games. Still, I think there's a sufficient amount of fluff to balance it out.

Once again, the time has come to read, enjoy, learn a new word, and review!

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**WORD OF THE DAY**

**Bivouac (10/29)**_  
n._** 1.** An encampment for the night, usually under little or no shelter. _intransitive verb_: **1.** To encamp for the night, usually under little or no shelter.

**Gloaming (10/31)**_  
n. _Twilight; dusk.

Journeying around the world back in the pre-Meteor days had been difficult. For all the fronts of encouraging globalization that Shinra claimed, the roads—if they could be considered such—between each town had been arduously difficult to traverse.

There were no motels along the way, usually the closest one being on the outskirts of a town or city with grand expanses of wilderness trapped in between. Dirty, sweaty, and often bloody, the would-be heroes often found themselves forced to bivouac in the most uncomfortable of places. Like tonight.

Tifa sneezed with a grimace as she pulled her thin blanket tighter around herself. The night had been especially cold for some reason or another and the first hour of her two-hour watch went by miserably slow. She consoled herself with the fact that the sullen gloaming that had fallen around her meant that dawn was nearly here. After all, they always did say that the darkest time of the day is the moment just before sunrise.

Her eyes traced the twinkling dance of the stars in the sky, a throbbing ache suddenly building beneath her ribs. She couldn't help but wonder if they as a team, as friends, had hit their darkest moment yet—their black before daybreak. If losing a friend, an almost-sister, didn't constitute as the darkest moment they would yet face, she hated to think what would.

But, that meant that the night would only lighten, didn't it? That the challenges they faced from here on out would just get easier? A single tear slipped from their confines behind her eyelids and were soon joined by a torrent. Even if that was true, she would rather face the blackest of nights than to lose her.

Tifa started when she felt the soft weight of another blanket draping over her shoulders. She looked up in surprise to find Cloud's solemn eyes studying her intently. Her eyes turned away quickly, and she rubbed at them with a dry chuckle.

"I got something in my eyes." It was a pitiful attempt at a cover-up, but she didn't really care.

She felt him sit down next to her and, for a brief moment that stretched into eternity, a tense silence fell between them. She started examining the skies again and just when she was about to ask him what he was doing up, he broke the truce first.

"I miss her too."

His softly spoken words triggered a clenching wrench of her heart and the tears began flowing once again. She struggled to keep her sobs quiet, but she lost control when he pulled her into her arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. Her hands tightly grabbed at the front of his shirt as she poured her sorrow into her tears.

"I miss her so much!" she wept, making sure that the fabric of his shirt absorbed much of the sound so that she wouldn't waken the others.

"I know. It's okay to cry."

And so she did. She wept and she sobbed until there were no tears left to cry. It was a liberating feeling that she didn't have to be strong for everyone else. That she could let her pain shine through her tough exterior. That she could hurt as much as anyone.

Her sobbing eventually died down and even her sniffles calmed. For a moment, all she felt was warmth and security before she belatedly remembered with a bit of embarrassment exactly who it was that was providing her such warmth and security.

She pulled back slightly, surprised when Cloud's hold didn't loosen. After a moment's hesitation, she gave in to temptation and buried herself deeper into his warmth. Even if it was just a way of comforting her and even if this would be the only time he would ever hold her like this, this one moment made all the suffering worth it.

"She's watching over us, you know." His chest rumbled when he spoke.

Tifa nodded. "Yeah. I know."

She smiled when his arms tightened around her.

* * *

A/N: So I felt like it was definitely time to get some acknowledgment of Aeris going on here. I honestly think I portrayed Tifa's heartbreak over Aeris' death quite accurately in that you're gonna get super close to anyone you spend so much time with. As for Cloud, although the movie shows him on a major guilt-trip, I think he was never portrayed as that debilitated and guilt-ridden in the game. In fact, after the whole Mideel fiasco, he seemed to open up and definitely appeared more confident of himself.

Anyway, that was my rant of the day. Major thanks to all my readers!

Shout-outs go out to the following: **Sacred3,** ishmaranara, **Qwi-Xux**, et cetera et cetera, **MissGreenPeace**, randomcat23, **butterflybookmark**, JingYee, **HesitantPen13**, h. luna, **darkangel8694**


	8. Ensconced and Sentinel

A/N: I live!!! These past couple of weeks has been nothing short of grueling. But, finals are over, so that means lots of happiness for me. Anyhow, here's another lovely twofer for your enjoyment. Thank you so very much for your wonderful reviews! You are much loved. Really.

Read, enjoy, learn a new word, review please!

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**WORD OF THE DAY  
**

**Ensconced (11/14)  
**_Adj. _**1.** sheltered comfortably and firmly **2.** sheltered safely; hidden

**Sentinel** **(12/6**_)  
n, v_. **1.** to stand guard and watch, _n _**1.** a person stationed to keep watch and guard

He'd always been under the misconception that she needed a hero. And perhaps such was indeed the case when her disposition—a hardy resilience that poured into all aspects of her life: the physical, the mental, and the emotional—was only just developing in those early years. But, if he were to be very honest with himself, he would realize that he had never rescued her from anything ever before. No, on the contrary, he found himself constantly saved by her.

Yes, for hers was a quiet strength and a hidden fire that would only manifest itself in the most subtle of ways. But it was there, and it was more robust than anything he could ever claim.

He found it strange however that she would always credit him for something she could have very well done on her own—better too, for that matter.

She would smile gratefully at him for charging in and dispatching of a group of wolves that she was having no issue taking care of. She would thank him with a light touch on the arm for carrying a box of fragile liquor to the storage room, though he later discovered that she would get intensely nervous when anyone else beside herself carried her wares. She would peck him lightly on the cheek for threatening a male customer who got a little too friendly or for acting as the resident bouncer when a group of inebriated hardheads got a little too riled up, though they both knew that she would fare better in an all-out hand-to-hand brawl.

She would thank him for giving her more trouble with his interfering ways, and he knew that her gratitude was never a front. It was always the most genuine appreciation she could give, and he wondered how that could be. Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder whether he was playing the part of a defender or that of a meddlesome fool.

For so long he had wanted to be her personal sentinel, a protector who would shelter her from all dangers, a man who would have her gently ensconced within the fold of his arms. And yet…yet he had to wonder whether she ever felt as safe with him as he felt with her. For she was a protector as well. She was a guardian of his soul.

Yes. She was. She would protect him in all things, even if it meant thanking him for nothing. Because, while she didn't necessarily need a hero, she _wanted_ one and, even more importantly, _he_ needed to be a hero for her.

And so they would continue playing their roles of the knight in shining armor come to rescue his damsel in distress, though the knight was a little less than knightly and the damsel not quite in distress. And so they would continue to be the unseen hero and the hero who wasn't, and together they would be heroes for one another.

Because in the end, that is all that really matters.

* * *

**Shout outs:** Dead Pepper, **et cetera et cetera, **Summoner Yuki, **ishmaranara,** elebelly, **vx-Luna-xv, **Sacred3, **JingYee, **Qwi-Xux, **firefox999, **DreadPirateSephy

Y'all are awesome!!!


	9. Narcissism

A/N: Yes, I changed my pen name. Why? No good reason. I just thought it was time for some change.

And yes, I know I need to stop disappearing for months on end without saying anything. But I guess that's just how life comes at you sometimes. Anyhow, I've been a rather busy child. The new quarter has been pretty tough with a lot of dry reading hence why I've been a bit short of time lately. But, I think my drive for writing is coming back somewhat, so we'll see how many updates I can churn out before my next disappearance act. Anyhow, I really am sorry for the sporadic updates. Massive thanks to everyone who's reviewed my stories, and I'll try my darnest to be more consistent.

I must admit, I don't think this is one of my best works. I hate writing melodramatic stuff, and I think this definitely turned out a little too melodramatic for my liking, but eh. We'll see what you all think. Read, enjoy, learn a new word, and review!

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY ****(12/24)**_  
_

**Narcissism **

_n. inordinate fascination with oneself; excessive self-love; vanity._

Cloud could not deny that there always would be something about women he'd simply never understand. They were a species of whose intellectual prowess he could not grasp. That was simply a fact of life.

But, for all that, Cloud still could not understand why Tifa thought it would be a good idea to go out with _Rufus Shinra_ of all people. In fact, he couldn't understand why she would associate with him at all, much less while dressed like _that_. Granted, she had been invited to one those high-rolling, snobbish in his opinion, cocktail parties Shinra was holding as a celebration of the ground-breaking ceremony for the reconstruction of Midgar, but that didn't mean she had to go dressed quite so.

He wisely kept his eyes from wandering (at least not quite so conspicuously), but it was certainly a challenge. Though her deep maroon dress was far from scandalous—she probably covered more skin in this than her old Avalanche wardrobe—but Cloud could have sworn that the design of her gown must have been made with her in mind. It was a simple halter-top dress; the soft satin material fell to a little below her knees, the fabric flaring slightly at mid-thigh whenever she moved. The dress clung to her figure in a way that did not blatantly accentuate her curves, but rather enticed with its modesty. She curled her long hair so that it tumbled down her back in a wavy waterfall, tendrils of loose hair framing her face.

Cloud had to admit that Rufus made an excellent choice in escort. For a man swimming in narcissism, Rufus couldn't have picked a better woman to accompany him to the party. No one could catch an entire ballroom's attention like Tifa could. No one had her poise. No one had her charisma. Even if she wasn't the most externally beautiful woman in the room, she was the most mesmerizing. All eyes would be on her. Her and the man with her.

That simple fact hit Cloud like a sledgehammer to his gut. He knew Rufus's intention. She would be branded as Rufus's property if she went to something like that with him. He couldn't have that.

"What's wrong Cloud? Did I smudge my make-up?"

Her melodious voice brought him back to reality, a pair of warm eyes staring at him expectantly. "Huh? No….You're beautiful."

A faint blush graced her cheeks as she looked away. That had been unexpected. "Thank you, Cloud."

Their eyes met as the air in the living room thickened. "Tifa, I—"

A loud, persistent ringing cut him short. With a sheepish smile, Tifa dug into her purse to answer her phone.

"Rufus?" Pause. "Alright, I'll come out now. See you in a little bit." Sticking her phone back in her purse, she said to Cloud, "Sorry. Rufus is here. Can we talk later?"

Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed for the door. Just before she reached the doorknob, Cloud broke out his reverie. In two giant steps, he beat her to the door and grabbed her arm, pulling her flush against his chest. Breathing heavily (from adrenaline or nervousness, who knows?), he rasped into her ear, "Don't go."

Swallowing thickly, she could only let out a timid, "Cloud?"

"Don't go with Rufus."

"It's just a cocktail party Cloud."

"No, it's not. It's Rufus being typical Rufus. He's making a claim on you, Tifa."

She couldn't help but smile against his chest at that. Cloud could be so protective sometimes, but she supposed that's why she loved him. "Cloud, are you jealous?" she probed with a smirk.

"It's not like that. It's just…I don't want you to get hurt."

"How would I possibly get hurt? Besides, Rufus has been a perfect gentleman. He'd be an interesting person to get to know better."

Tifa knew she pushed too far when she felt Cloud stiffen.

He let her go and stepped back. He tried to read her eyes, but couldn't get anything. Was he just being meddlesome? What if she did want to try a relationship with Rufus? He let out a deep breath. "Sorry. Have fun tonight."

He turned away, but this time Tifa placed a stopping hand on his arm. With her other hand, she dug her phone out of her purse and flipped it open. "Hey Rufus. Sorry, but you and Scarlett can just go ahead. Bye."

Cloud's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Rufus….and Scarlett?"

"Cloud, you're such an idiot sometimes," she said with an admonishing tone, though the twinkle in her eyes only grew brighter. "Rufus's real escort is Scarlett. I was just getting a ride with them. I wasn't really going with anybody."

"…Oh."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Uh…"

"You know, I spent a lot of money on this dress. It'd be a shame to waste it."

"Huh?"

Tifa rolled her eyes. "That would be your cue to offer to go with me to the party."

"Oh." His eyes widened as her meaning finally sank in. "Oh!" A boyish smile spread across his lips, the sight throwing her into a cloud of bliss that she'd never known before. "You know I don't have a tux for this kind of thing right?"

She shrugged. "It's okay. You're Cloud Strife. No one's gonna say anything if you go like this."

So he did.

And yes, he felt the slightest bit foolish when they stepped into the massive grand ballroom while still dressed in his oil-stained slacks and faded zip-up vest, but it was all worth it when he saw the envious stares thrown his way by all the men in the room when they saw him with an arm wrapped around the most attractive woman at the cocktail party.

He didn't understand women and he probably never would, but the one thing he did know was that Tifa had chosen to go with no one but _him_, even in his less-than-impressive clothing. And that, though it defied all his logic, was all that really mattered.

* * *

**Shout-outs:** et cetera et cetera, **randomcat23**, vx-Luna-xv, **DarKxKunoichi**, Dead Pepper, **elebelly**, JingYee, **rapturesrevenge**, spiritslayer (special thanks for reviewing every chapter in one go!), **firefox999**, summoner yuki, **Qwi-Xux**, Needles, **sweetyakane**, Sacred3**, Yutaka Satoe**, elirian, **Cloti22**

Who know's where I'd be without all your support? (Probably somewhere on a street corner with my guitar....)


	10. Tetchy

A/N: Wow, this is a day of milestones. First of all, thank you soooooo very much for all my readers/reviewers who have helped push this collection over 100 (!) reviews. I never thought I'd ever get a story with such great reception. Thanks a million!!! Second, this chapter also marks the first multi-chapter thing that I've posted that has exceeded single digit chapters! Hehehe...I guess that second one isn't really a big deal, but if you're like me and have a couple of stories stuck at 6, 7, and 9 chapters each, then this is a major deal. Lol.

Okay, anyway, with all of that stuff out of the way, hope you all like this newest installment! Read, enjoy, learn a new word, and review!!

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY (3/12)  
**

**Tetchy  
**

_Adj. Peevish; testy; irritable._

If there was any one word that could best encapsulate Tifa's temperament, it would be nothing short of "patient." Those who knew her were infinitely grateful for such a disposition because, for whatever reason, all the idiots of the world seemed attracted to her graciousness and almost innately flocked to her.

This, of course, included one emotionally unstable—though he was working on it—and partial to few words—a habit he tried to break—ex-SOLDIER with a head of spiky hair that shockingly resembled a chocobo's posterior. Or so he was told anyway.

Oh and he was well-aware that he was one of the greatest the beneficiaries—if not _the_ greatest—of Tifa's wondrously enduring soul. For that, he was infinitely grateful, to be sure. No one else, he was absolutely certain, would be willing to outlast his stubborn streak of self-deprecation with the persistent patience that Tifa had done for him.

A faint smile touched his lips when he remembered how she'd only grinned knowingly when he finally told her he loved her. It was almost as if she'd known all along. Or maybe she really had.

Whatever the case, their relationship was enviably loving and one that others would consider undeniably cute if it weren't so sickeningly _sweet_.

So imagine a certain ninja's extreme surprise when she arrived at the world-renowned Seventh Heaven to catch up with some old friends—and to get some free liquor while she's at it—only to find a certain delivery boy camped out on (read: kicked out to) the living room sofa and furiously grouping the strangest combinations of food items she'd ever seen in her life. This plate looked suspiciously like pickles dipped in peanut butter and chocolate; that plate a crepe filled with mustard and whipped cream....She didn't even want to know what _that _plate was.

"Whoa. Chocobo head. D'ya finally fall off the deep end? Then again, you kinda already did. But still, this is pretty weird, even for you."

"Yuffie," Cloud acknowledged briefly, barely sparing her a glance before returning dedicatedly to the making of odd edibles (though whether or not they were really edible is another matter altogether).

"Gawd, don't tell me that's what you call dinner. Where's Tifa? She oughtta make a rule that you can't touch the kitchen."

"She's upstairs." When Yuffie started bounding up the steps, Cloud called out, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Not unless you have a peace offering."

"Peace offering? Pshaw! This is Tifa we're talking about. Peace offering…"

Cloud shrugged. "Your funeral."

"Whatever. Just watch me. The Great Ninja Yuffie is afraid of nothing!"

Despite her outward show of confidence, the young ninja couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. Okay, _very_ intimidated. Cloud wasn't one to exaggerate. He was also not one to get frightened easily. So if he was down here making a peace offering just to see Tifa instead of just marching on upstairs to kiss the barmaid senseless and making her see things his way like that….well…that didn't bode well for everyone else.

Still, this was Tifa, she reminded herself. Tifa had a patience that was unparalleled. How bad could it possibly be?

Right. It can't be that bad. She was just here saying hi anyway. Up the stairs then.

Too bad her feet carried her to the sofa in the living room instead of upstairs to her friend's room. She wasn't scared. No, never. She just wanted to see what Cloud was up to first.

Yup. That's it. Not afraid.

It wasn't before long she heard Cloud take in a deep breath as if to harden his resolve before starting up the stairs while carrying a tray holding all the plates of food he'd made and she couldn't help but shudder at the fact that Cloud was _this_ scared.

She followed him to the bottom of the staircase and watched with fascination as his hands seemed to tremble a little more the closer he got to the top. She couldn't help but feel slightly frightened for him when he hesitantly knocked on the bedroom door he shared with Tifa. The door opened and Cloud looked like he was facing his execution.

A few moments of silence followed, Yuffie not all that willing to get to close in case she'd get caught in the collateral damage, and she thanked her lucky materia that she stayed back because suddenly there was some indistinct yelling—by the sounds of it, all from Tifa—followed by a certain delivery boy getting thrown out of the room. Not quite literally, but close enough that he'd probably made a dent in the wall.

Yuffie stared at the scene incredulously. She'd never in all the years she'd known Tifa EVER seen her quite as tetchy as that. "Strife, what did you _do_ to her?"

Cloud shrugged nonchalantly after he picked himself off the floor, plucking a peanut butter-covered pickle from his hair as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I got her pregnant."

* * *

Shout-outs: **ishmaranara**, et cetera et cetera, **Qwi-Xux**, DreadPirateSephy, **vx-Luna-xv**, Spiritslayer, **DarKxKunoichi**, Sacred3, **elebelly**, San Hayashi, **rapturesrevenge**, Cloti22, **Asterxia Sy**, rokusan23

Much love to you all!!


	11. Somnolent

A/N: Man, oh man, there were so many good words in April! Too bad spring quarter has been so busy and I've been a little short on time. That and I've suddenly been stricken with new inspiration for **IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE** that has had me writing things up for it like crazy. Maybe I'll go back and do some of the old words though.

Read, enjoy, learn a new word, and review! Thanks!

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY (4/26)**

**Somnolent**

_Adj. _**_1._**_ Sleepy; drowsy; inclined to sleep. _**_2._**_ Tending to cause sleepiness or drowsiness._

Cloud rarely slept through a whole night without waking up at least once before day broke.

In the early years after the Meteor incident, sleep came paired with the many demons haunting his dreams. They'd made sleep more of a horror than actual rest, and the only reason he would occasionally let his mind drift into the chaos of his consciousness was because his body's physical limitations demanded he stop running from his nightmares if only for a couple of hours at a time.

And so it seemed with every passing day that the demons would only grow stronger, their hold on his sanity ever tightening until their claws dug deep into his mind and poisoned his waking moments as well as his nights. Then one day, the evil of those demons manifested itself in the form of black pus leaking from festering scars in his arm. Sleep would forever be tainted first by sin, then by excruciating pain. There was no escape.

But just when he thought he could go no further, could not endure another sleepness night, he'd found redemption. And while it took him death and life—or life from death, or something like that—to find it, he was still hesitant to embrace it—it felt almost wrong to leave the darkness in his heart to the past—but the clouds rolled back a little more each day, and sometimes—just sometimes—he could feel the healing warmth of the sun wash through him and consume him with its peace.

The demons of his past hadn't left him completely, and they probably never would—he was thankful enough that they left him alone for most of the day—but he'd been able to take small steps forward. He'd learned that even though he was a broken man, it was okay to love; that his presence wouldn't bring disaster upon his whole household; that even if it did, they would all rather have him there than for him to bear his burdens on his own.

And slowly but surely, he found that a woman and two children were the greatest warriors he'd ever known. Because they were the ones who battled his guilt and came away victorious. Because they refused to give up on him even when he'd given up all hope himself. Because they represented sunlight in his darkened mind and oh how he reveled in their warmth!

Yet, even now, though he had the nightly comfort of sleeping with Tifa's wondrously somnolent presence tucked tightly into the curve of his body, it was still difficult to get a full night's sleep.

A wet cry sounded out in the silence of the night and he was immediately awake. Years of sleeping on guard had taught his body to react to the slightest of sounds, never mind a wail that was created for the sole purpose of survival.

He gently extracted himself from Tifa's hold, feathering a kiss to her temple, and rolled out of bed, heading straight for the back of the room. With a small smile, he reached into the cradle and gently rocked his daughter in his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. (And how good it was to be able to show affection for those he loved without reservation!) "Hush, Kelsey. We don't want to wake up Mommy, now."

Lithe arms wrapped around his waist from behind and Tifa's sleepy, but content—and oh how important to him it was that she be content!—voice floated up slightly muffled as her lips murmured against his back. "Mommy's already awake. But thank you Daddy anyway." The feel of her lips against his bare shoulder blades sent a fierce tingle running through his body and he was reminded once again why his demons would never win. Her love was simply too powerful a force to be reckoned with.

Cloud's smile grew as he maneuvered around to pull Tifa close into his side while cradling his child reverantly with the other arm. It still amazed him sometimes that this was real. That he could now call the woman he loved more than life itself his wife. That he had this little bundle of joy and hope cradled in the safety of his arms. That he had two other children who—for whatever reason—thought him to be the hero _they_ really were. That he was _happy_.

And yes, he still couldn't get a full night's sleep, but his family—his beautiful, beautiful family—was well worth the sacrifice.

* * *

**Shoutouts: **Qui-Xux, **Spiritslayer**, DarKxKunoichi, **elebelly**, Ylandel, **Fairheartstrife**, rapturesrevenge, **Cliocat**, ishmaranara, **randomcat23**, Ch0k-naT, **kitsune13**, vx-Luna-xv, **Sacred3**, pockybandits89, **rokusan23**, Asterxia Sy, **shadowneko003**, Sokka's Fan-Lawyer, **Binkledup**

Wow...it's such an honor that every time I do this, the list seems to get longer. Thank you sooo much for all your support! Much love to you all!

One last note about the name of their daughter. I personally am not a big fan of naming their kids after Aeris and Zack just because it's been done so often. What can I say? I'm such a rebel. :)


	12. Bumptious

A/N: I'm not sure what to make of this one. More of a character study, I suppose, than anything. Also not much romance, so sorry to disappoint if that's what you're looking for. I think I've just been super obsessed with trying to write other facets of Tifa's character ever since reading _Case of Tifa_. Regardless, hope you all like this one. And please remember to review! Many thanks!

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY (4/29)**

**Bumptious **

_Adj. Crudely, presumptuously, or loudly self-assertive._

The would-be saviors of the world were a motley group.

Never mind their various origins and choices of occupation (i.e. one reticent ex-SOLDIER with lapses of memory and sanity, a leader of a rebel group with a unnatural fascination with sailor suits, a failed astronaut turned cranky tea-obsessed airplane pilot, a loud-mouth ninja-princess whose kleptomaniac tendencies cost them a week's hike through the treacherous terrain of Wutai, a stuffed toy cat fortune telling machine who was in reality a Shinra spy, a nocturnal ex-TURK who slept in coffins for kicks and atonement, and an overworked bartender who was the closest one to sane amongst the whole group), their very personalities portended crash and boom.

On one end of the spectrum were the taciturn and prone to brooding, namely Cloud, Vincent and, at times, Red XIII. On the other were the obnoxiously bumptious, comprised of Barret, Cid, Cait Sith and of course Yuffie.

However, as a result of this wide range of clashing temperaments, Tifa Lockhart often found herself in the unenviable position of trying to placate both sides. Most of the time, she was relatively successful (at least no one had seriously maimed another yet, though there were several times when they'd come disturbingly close) and by nature she possessed a maternal streak that wasn't completely averse to the odious task of keeping everyone in line.

But sometimes, just sometimes, she would be overwhelmed by the strain of constantly trying to calm people down or to draw others out of their shell. And it was in those moments of utter helplessness, when nothing she did to soothe the tensions between her teammates seemed to work, when the group's incessant bickering began to grate on her own frayed nerves, when she felt so completely alone in her seemingly futile endeavors…It was during these times that she missed Aeris and her innate ability to make everyone _smile_ the most.

While time and circumstances had not allowed them to be as close as they could have been, Aeris was the best friend she'd never had. She was her ally in the constant struggle to make everyone get along. She was her confidant and such a willing ear she had been. She was the pillar of optimism on whom she'd drawn her own strength.

They'd understood each other better than either would dare admit, and there would always be that ache in her heart whenever she remembered that they would never have the opportunity to _be_ best friends.

And without Aeris' soothing presence by her side to strengthen and resolve her, it grew increasingly difficult to hold everyone else up while she herself was falling, hurting. She could smile for everyone else, but in the shadow of the night when their watchful gazes had turned within to dreams, she did not know how to smile for herself.

Maybe she simply could not, or maybe she knew that she _should_ not. Yes, she should not. After all, what was there to smile about anymore? Smiles for herself would be selfish and naïve, and while she often had to admit to being selfish, she had long ago shed any naivety she might have had. And now that the sun had died and the thunderclouds had rolled over in its stead, hope…hope was a precious commodity of which she was in short supply.

She looked up at the night sky and didn't try to contain the amazed and overwhelmed sigh that escaped her lips. If nothing else, all the traveling around the world—even if it was with a bunch of mentally questionable figures—allowed her to indulge in the majesty of the natural world. Absently, her fingers played with a long piece of straw hay, her nimble digits twisting and creasing and folding it until she produced a single star. She placed it reverently on the rock next to her.

Perhaps it wasn't much and perhaps it couldn't compare with the twinkling gems sparkling above them, but it was a reminder to herself that there was still beauty in the world, that Aeris' sacrifice would not be in vain. And yes, Aeris was gone, and who knew who else they would lose before the journey's end, but they were all here now and she would do her best to keep it that way, even if it meant smiling when she didn't want to and being the voice of reason when all she really wanted was to cry.

"Tifa?"

She pulled her eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of the glittering night sky to find herself staring into a set of bold blue crystals, the pull of his eyes equally enchanting. She wondered how it was that the sight of his eyes could make the heavens pale in comparison.

She nodded—her watch now over—and she stood up silently to stretch out her tired muscles before crawling into her bedroll. Sleep came quickly but so did morning.

It seemed she'd only just closed her eyes when she was dragged out of her dreamless sleep by a firm hand gently tapping her shoulder. When she opened her eyes, she was once again looking into twin depths of blue blue blue. Briefly, she found herself thinking she'd die happy if she woke up every morning to the sight of his eyes.

Shaking off the thought, she joined everyone else as they dismantled their camp and decided where and when the next rendezvous point would be. Her eyes strayed when the volume of her "conversing" teammates picked up, and she chanced to glance at the rock she'd been sitting on the night before and to her surprise, found that there was another straw star sitting next to her own.

Perplexed, her eyes naturally sought out Cloud's and they widened when he gave her a small nod and a barely there smile. It was ludicrous and probably just a result of her groggy mind, but she couldn't help but think that there was a silent promise in that action. That they would remember together. That they would make it through together. That there was hope after all. That he understood.

And so she smiled back. It was a small smile but it was more real than the wide grins she'd begun to hide behind.

And no, she could not smile for herself—not yet—but she would not stop smiling. Because, no matter how little she had left, there was hope. Because she was not alone.

* * *

Huge thank you's to: **Alialka, **randomcat23, **Spiritslayer,** HyperionTheWatcher, **vx-Luna-xv, **Noctis Strife, **shadowneko003**, demonegg, **Cloudtail4ever**, Sacred3, **et cetera et cetera, **rokusan23, **Iskra revoir**, kitsune13, **rapturesrevenge, **Ariane, **ishmaranara**, pockybandits89, **JingYee**


	13. Coruscate

A/N: To make up for the lack of fluff in the last chapter, I present to you enough sugar to warrant brushing your teeth afterwards. Actually, probably not, but considering it's me and I have a slight aversion to writing things overly sugar-filled, this is about as fluffy as it gets. Enjoy!

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY (5/7)**

**Coruscate **

_v. _**_1._**_ To give off or reflect bright beams or flashes of light; to sparkle. _**_2._**_ To exhibit brilliant, sparkling technique or style._

Battle-worn hands that were still more used to holding fists than cleaning rags worked with mindless familiarity as the owner of said hands wiped down the tables after another arduous night at the Seventh Heaven. Sometimes Tifa Lockhart didn't know whether she ought to laugh or cringe at some of the questions her patrons pelted her with.

Most of the time, they were harmless inquiries as to why she wouldn't go out with any of them. (That question was quickly solved when Cloud, soon after the Geostigma incident, became a permanent fixture at the far end of her bar on the nights he came home early, the occurrence of which strangely began to increase in frequency until he was there almost every night except for those when she'd close early or he'd been delayed.)

But other times, they would ask _that_ question. The one she never could quite give a straight answer to without giving away a treasured memory, one she was unwilling to share with anyone else. Maybe it was precisely because of her obvious attempts at skirting the question that even more of her customers would probe for a straight answer, and the only way she could get them to stop was by forcibly closing the bar early. Tonight had been one such night.

Sometimes she wondered if she was overreacting. It was a reasonable question and one that shouldn't have to be so difficult to answer. And in reality, it wasn't really difficult to answer; she just didn't _want_ to answer.

So many aspects of her life were open to the world—she wanted this one thing to just belong to her.

Her musings were cut short when she heard the tell-tale roar of Fenrir's engine cut off outside the bar. Her lips pulled up automatically in a fond smile. Funny how his very presence could elicit such responses from her.

Road weary and cheeks smeared with spots of oil, Cloud Strife still cut a striking image of masculinity and grace. Tired as he was, the sight of her prompted a small smile to form, both on his lips and in his eyes. "Hey," he greeted softly.

"Hey to you too. Long day?"

He shrugged. "I guess. Fenrir broke down when I was passing through Cosmo Canyon and I had to ask the mechanics who fixed the buggy to help me get it restarted. Everything else was fine." He paused before adding. "Red says hi by the way."

Tifa couldn't help the way her smile spread wider. Time really could heal all wounds. In the months following the incident with Kadaj, Cloud had opened so much. It was strange to think that even three months ago, Cloud would have probably just come back with a grunted "I'm home," even if he'd been injured, before heading upstairs to shower.

Now…now it warmed her heart that he would take the time to tell her even the seemingly insignificant—at least what he considered to be insignificant in his mind—things of his day without hesitation.

It was enough to make her throw her arms around his neck and press a happy kiss on his cheek, dirt-smeared and all. With a soft chuckle, Cloud returned her affection easily, a strong arm accustomed to carrying heavy swords relishing what it felt like to carry a much more precious weight as it wrapped around her waist. His other hand came up to cradle her head more firmly against the hollow of his neck.

Sighing happily, her mouth spoke before her brain gave it permission. "They asked me again today."

"What?"

She almost giggled at the ticklish sensation of Cloud's vocal chords vibrating against her nose. "Why I became a bartender of all things."

"Why did you?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

Pushing back so she could gaze into those beautiful blue eyes of his, she smiled enigmatically before leaning in to touch her lips gently against his, the sweetness of their kiss quickly escalating into something deeper.

Maybe someday she'd tell him, but for now, it was her secret. After all, he didn't need to know that the dim lighting of the bar striking against the wine glasses coruscated in a manner that reminded her of a starry night in Nibelheim when a promise was made and a hero had stolen her heart…

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**Big thank you's to: **Fairheartstrife, **randomcat23, **beaucoup riant, **DreadPirateSephy (_no worries, just glad you're back!_)**, ishmaranara, **mirrorshine**, vx-Luna-xv, **Sacred3**, rapturesrevenge, **Mind Astray**


	14. Oneiric

A/N: This is not a happy oneshot. I don't know why I've been so obsessed with the theme of guilt lately, but it's back and it's depressing, though probably not in the same way others have approached it. But, I do try to insert some semblance of hope into all my darker writings and this one is no different so hopefully it won't be a complete downer.

So yeah, thank you all so much for your support through this fic and all my other ones for that matter as well. New chapters should be coming soon for both **PRO BONO** and **IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE** now that I'm finally done with finals (okay so I've been done for over a week now) and moving out of my apartment and back home for the summer. Much love to you all!

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**WORD OF THE DAY (6/7)**

**Oneiric**

_Adj. Of, pertaining to, or suggestive of dreams; dreamy._

It happened the first night after they'd escaped from Midgar. They were setting up camp in the rocky wilderness surrounding the metropolis, it being the first time they'd stopped for rest since they'd slipped past the walls of Midgar. She volunteered to find firewood—to which Cloud was strangely adamantly averse to her going alone but she'd refused to back down and Barret had sided with her just for the sake of undermining "Spikey's" authority. Barret was also very familiar with Tifa's stubborn streak and learned to just let her have her way when she got that certain look in her eyes. Needless to say, she'd won out in the end, though not without first promising that she wouldn't go outside shouting distance of the camp.

_What kind of helpless damsel in distress did he take her for anyway?_ bristled the hardened woman from the slums in her head; incongruously, the hero-struck little Nibelheim girl in her warmed at his concern.

Before long, she'd gathered up an impressive pile of dead branches; it'd be enough to last several hours. She turned to head back but something in the air gave her pause. She knew she should really return so that they could start a fire to ward off the night chill, but…she glanced about at the serene surroundings and decided she'd only be a few minutes more.

She sat down on a small boulder, taking in a deep breath of the crisp night air, the scent of nature refreshing her body and soul, even if the land was dreadfully barren. The detrimental effects of Shinra's mako reactors were painfully obvious on the arid landscape.

Though they had not yet outdistanced the garish lights of Midgar, it was now but a surreal citadel left to the past. She'd had some good memories there, but for much of the five years she'd lived there, it was filled with an overwhelming sense of despair.

Shinra had been so good at marketing their so-called progressive policies, "always looking to the future," or so they claimed, but reality proved that appearances were oh so deceiving. Beneath the majesty and splendor of the Shinra Power Company and its regal headquarters lay a world of the dead and forgotten, a festering disease strangling the life out of millions of people. And such was the proverbial white-washed tomb, beautiful on the outside but filled with nothing but rotting corpses on the inside.

She was glad to finally be rid of it. Drinking in the beauty of nature now, she wondered how she ever managed to survive five years in that suffocating world conjured up by the lethal ambitions of power hungry businessmen. But she was free from that now. Free to explore, to learn just what the rest of the world had to offer.

_But at what price?_ Asked the voice in her head. _You've found freedom, but at the expense of the lives of others. What does that make you? You're a killer all the same._

And suddenly it gripped her. Guilt, harsh and unrelenting. Merciless, it permeated every fiber of her being, flooded her mind, her soul with darkness and clutched tightly to her heart with its firm icy grip.

Images of people she didn't know, of a family she'd torn apart, of the wife she'd left without a husband, a son without a father…all because of her. And strange as it was, this guilt was far worse than what she'd felt when they'd blown up the reactors or even when Shinra dropped that damned plate. Yes, the remorse _then _had been near suffocating, but with the plate, she could blame that on Shinra, and with the reactor…awful as it was, there'd been no faces to haunt her dreams.

But with _him_, when she snapped his neck and saw his eyes—too young, too young!—start to glaze over with that catatonic stare of death…that was a man she'd killed with her bare hands. A human being! With a real face and a real tattered family picture tucked securely into his pant pocket as if it was a common occurrence for him to reach into that pocket and tenderly trace the faces of his beloved family.

A family that, because of her, would soon receive the news that Daddy wasn't coming home ever again.

It broke her.

She huddled into a ball, only dimly aware that she'd wandered too far off from the group to drop her defenses like this, especially in the wild, but she couldn't bring herself to care. All she could think of was a dead nameless face and shocked eyes that only wanted to see his family safe and sound and to care for them and to love them. And _she'd_ stolen all of that when she took his life in cold blood.

Oh God, what had she _done_?

Even if he _was_ a Shinra soldier, she could not justify herself. Nothing justified taking the life of another human being.

The tears racked her slender frame and rendered her helpless with wave after wave of cold shuddering. Everything else blacked out and all she could hear was the screams of condemnation. _You're no different from Shinra. You're killing and _murdering _just the same as they are. You're selfish. You think you're saving the planet? You're just spreading the violence because you want revenge. That's all it's ever been about. All those lives…it's because of your insatiable thirst for vengeance!_

She wanted to tell it to stop, but she couldn't, partly because she wasn't strong enough but also partly because she knew it was true. She was selfish. She was killing people because of her own vendetta. Justice? She was no defender of it. She was just another selfish fool, another rebel with too much blood on her hands.

She whimpered, but the noise was strangled and barely there. Maybe it would have felt better to let it all out, but she was restrained by the single not-altogether rational thought that she deserved all the pain that her conscience doled her, and that included enduring it with a soundless anguish.

She didn't know how long the darkness controlled and overtook her, but she jumped in alarm when a firm hand landed on her shoulder. Not in the right state of mind to guard her expression at all, her eyes were wild and filled with such despair when her head snapped up to see Cloud looking down at her with—dare she think it—a look of concern, however muted it may be, chiseled into his expression.

"Are you alright?" His voice was low, rumbling, and with just a touch of softness that made her stomach flip, even as she tried to compose herself. Dimly, she felt the sudden urge to kick herself for proving him right after all. She could have been ambushed or even killed by _anything_ just then and wouldn't have known what hit her.

She forced a laugh and surreptitiously wiped away the moisture seeping from her eyes. "Cloud! It's nothing. I…I just—I'm just being stupidly overemotional." His expression remained unchanged and she already knew that his patience would outlast her frayed nerves. She let the laughter fade away, suddenly tired of keeping up all her pretenses. Her eyes focused on a point on the floor and refused to look up. "I knew from the start that it would be inevitable that lives would be lost, but I just…"

"The guard…He was the first person you've ever killed." It wasn't a question, but a startled epiphany and his blue blue eyes widened in a rare look of surprise.

It had been after she met up with Cloud after his solo battle with Rufus Shinra and on their way meeting up with the others. Up until then, Tifa had been deliberately careful to only knock out, never seriously injure, the human guards they came upon, but when the sudden horde of troopers came rushing at them….She'd flipped backwards to avoid a swift blade coming down hard at her and caught a trooper's head between her ankles. Using the momentum, she flipped him to the ground as she landed, legs still trapping his neck, and in the heat of battle, she hadn't hesitated to twist her legs _just_ _so_.

The sick snap of his neck resounded loudly in her ears, even in the midst of the other troopers still attacking. She'd stared down at him numbly and she could only guess that Cloud had dispatched the rest because by the time she came back to reality, they were surrounded by bodies, both unconscious and dead.

Almost mechanically, she knelt to check his body for medicine or anything they could use when she came upon the picture in his pant pocket. It was a family portrait, a radiant young man, a beautiful wife, and an adorable son…She'd nearly retched on the spot, but Cloud was pulling her up and she remembered that they had to escape and so she pushed away the glazed eyes, pushed away the happy portrait, pushed away thinking at all…

It all came back to her now though with frightening clarity.

She slammed her eyes shut to block away the memory, but that did nothing to alleviate it; if anything, it only magnified it. The words poured from her mouth uncontrollably. "When I first started training with Master Zangan, I never—it was never supposed to be like this. Martial arts…it was only supposed to be for self-defense. But when I kil—I saw his eyes and they were dead, just like he was dead and that image just keeps popping up in my head and it won't stop."

She finally looked up at him helplessly, a part of her glad, so so _so very_ glad, that only Cloud had been there to see her first act of ultimate violence, and she was desperately seeking comfort but realized that he was probably the last person who would give her that, as much as she wanted _him _to be the one to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. After all, while he'd been detached while they were still in Midgar, now the reason he would occasionally venture out of his shell was due to the presence of a beautiful brunette with the sparkling green eyes who wasn't _her_. Shamefully, she couldn't decide which was worse.

She looked away again, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make this into such a sob story. I just…I'm sorry I bothered you with something so stupid."

Eyes red, heart tenderly aching, she stood to return to camp, but his voice stopped her.

"It's not stupid." She looked at him questioningly before he clarified. "It's never stupid to feel remorse at killing someone." It was his turn to fix his gaze unseeingly at the horizon. "I wish….I wish I still felt that. But I don't. And I wonder sometimes what's wrong with me that I don't feel _anything_ when my blade slices through another man's flesh."

Shocked that he would reveal something so personal, Tifa didn't quite know how to respond. But she looked into his eyes, clear blue eyes that told the world nothing of what it was thinking, and for the first time, she thought she could detect a fraction of the anguish that hid behind them. One hand reached out of its own accord and threaded itself with his much larger, gloved hand while the other came up to gently brush away that wayward lock of hair that always fell over his eyes.

"You're not a monster," she whispered gently, but firmly. She didn't know what possessed her to say such a thing and when he didn't respond for the longest time she wondered if she'd in fact touched a subject too sensitive, but all thoughts flew out of her mind when Cloud suddenly pulled her forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her in a crushing embrace. Desperate. Troubled. Emotional. And for the first time since she'd seen him again, out of control.

She pulled her hands out of the awkward position they were in squeezed between their bodies to reach around his neck. In response, he buried his head against her shoulder, almost as if he was in pain. Without thinking, she stroked her fingers through his hair and leaned her cheek against his temple. Somehow she'd gone from the one seeking comfort to the one giving it, or maybe they just needed to comfort each other. She didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care.

They stood like that for a long time, and while it wasn't necessarily the type of embrace that Tifa's always imagined would be their first—and God knows how many scenarios she'd dreamed up of him hugging her—it was still him and he was warm and his very presence seemed to chase away the dark thoughts of her mind. Which was strange, considering he probably had far darker experiences running around in his head; nonetheless, she felt safe. Physically, certainly, but emotionally and mentally as well. He seemed to be her strength even if he was broken himself.

"Don't change." His voice was muffled against her hair and his breath playing warmly against the sensitive skin of her neck. She shivered despite herself. "Don't ever stop feeling. Don't ever push away the guilt so far that you can't feel anything anymore…It'll keep you human, sane. Don't stop feeling it like I did."

And then he tightened his hold for a second, almost as if he didn't want to let go, but he did anyway and the warmth left her as quickly as it had come. Without even glancing back at her again, he walked out of the clearing, every step he took another piece of the wall that had crumbled for so brief a time rebuilding itself.

She was frozen, heart breaking for him, but by the time her vocal chords had loosened, he was already gone.

She wasn't sure what to make of that encounter, but somehow, it was liberating. If she could have, she would have told him that guilt was not the only thing that made people human. It was a part of it, yes definitely, but there were other things. Positive emotions, happiness, friendship, love… And she thinks that she'll never get used to the actually taking the life of another human, nor should she—woe be the day people stop feeling remorse for inflicting pain on others—but she's grateful that she feels horrible for what she did. It's there as a reminder of how fragile, how precious life really is.

The remorse, the _shame_, was still there—it probably always will be—but it's tempered by something beautiful. Not to say that good cannot exist without evil, but now more than ever she was finding that the evil of the world, the pain and the suffering…Its presence made the good that much _better _when they see the beauty in the broken.

Gazing up at what had brought her out here in the first place—the oneiric sight of distant stars twinkling merrily in their own worlds and the bright luminescence of the moon casting the earth in shades of gray—made her breath catch. There was so much beauty in the world if only one would take the time to revel in it.

Cloud was probably the most broken mind she'd ever met and she still wasn't sure just how deep a mark his past made on his psyche, but if even _he _could find it in himself to see the beauty through the pain, to fight for the good, to live despite it all…maybe, maybe there is hope for the world after all.

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Thanks, thanks, and more thanks go to: **pockybandits89**, K.T. Selner, **Alialka**, Sacred3, **ishmaranara**, randomcat23, **mom calling**, Kiome-Yasha, **vx-Luna-xv**, beaucoup riant, **Mind Astray**, Part of Youth, **QueenAhems**, Spiritslayer, **DreadPirateSephy**, StifeVsTribal, **A Morning Star**, Qwi-Xux


	15. Nimiety

A/N: This one came out so completely different from what I set out to do. I'm not even sure what this is anymore, but I suppose you can consider it a character/family piece. An exploration of the source of Tifa's steadfastness, if you will. Anyhow, it's set just before Advent Children and the Ruby-san who is mentioned is from Case of Denzel.

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY (6/19)**

**Nimiety **

_n__. The state of being too much; excess_

There's a small house just down the street from the Seventh Heaven. It's a cozy little building, a one story house with a quaint white picket fence lining the front yard. It's something of an anomaly in Edge, where most of the homes that have been constructed are multistoried apartment buildings meant to cram as many people in a small amount of space as possible. Single story homes are nearly unheard of, and yards—front or back—are a rare commodity.

It's a friendly place though. Kids from all around the neighborhood are drawn to it especially for the sweets the home's owner—a gray-haired elderly lady with a grandmotherly smile who is appropriately known as Granny—doles out to whoever happens to be near. Sometimes Tifa thinks that the kindly old lady is spoiling the children with the nimiety of snacks she lavishes upon them, but then decides that the kids deserve to get a little pampered after everything they've lost.

It's a safe place for them to be, a place where they can revel in the attentions of a grandmother they've never had, and Tifa appreciates that even for the kids with Geostigma, this is a place where no child would ever be turned away or refused that gentle touch for fear of contamination.

And so it happens that on a day not too long after Cloud found Denzel and brought him into their humble abode that Tifa comes home to an empty bar, empty apartment. She's not surprised that Cloud isn't in; he's typically busy with the deliveries early in the morning well into the quiet hours of midnight. And…as much as it pains her to admit it, his absences have been grown increasingly frequent and his stays at home far shorter than before.

It hurts sometimes if she gives herself the chance to think about it, but most of the time she blocks it out with work.

As for the kids, there's usually only one place they would linger at for long and that's the house of the old woman down the street. Denzel simply adores the old woman. He always says that Granny reminds him of someone he met before, another kind old lady he knew as Ruby-san. So it's no surprise when he begins making himself a frequent visitor to her home. And of course, where Denzel is Marlene would be also, what with Marlene having in her young mind taken up the role of his caretaker.

Tifa sighs as she prepares for a night alone, a prospect that disturbs her more than she thinks it should. The dinner she makes goes into five portions: one for herself, three covered plates for Cloud, Denzel, and Marlene's dinners, and one more boxed and stored in the refrigerator for Cloud's lunch the next day. As she makes room in the fridge for the box, she can't help but think that it might have been pointless to set aside the two portions for Cloud. Who knew if he would be back tonight or the next night or the one after that? For all she knew, the leftovers might spoil before the next time he returns.

She pushes away the thoughts fiercely. It did no one any good to dwell on things like that.

She glances up at the clock on the wall and frowns. 7:45 p.m. The children know better than to stay out for so long without telling her first. Her maternal protective instinct kicks in and she's out the door and down the street in a matter of minutes.

But, as she stands outside the gate to that white picket fence, she finds herself hesitating to take another step. She's heard many good things about the pleasant old lady who lives here and one would think that Tifa would have taken the initiative to familiarize herself with the woman her kids spend so much time around.

But she hasn't; in fact, if anything, she's tried to avoid coming near the picturesque little home altogether. She doesn't like admitting it—even to herself—but she cannot deny that sweet, sweet Granny intimidates her. It's ironic and she laughs at herself for being intimidated by an old lady when she's faced down the likes of Sephiroth without batting an eye.

Yet for some reason, she can't completely rid herself of the feeling that anything Sephiroth could have done to her would pale in comparison to what could potentially happen with the little old lady who was everyone's favorite grandma. Because while she has endured pain—unbearable, searing pain—at the SOLDIER General's hands, she faces failure when it comes to Granny. Failure at being a proper caretaker, a proper mother. Failure at providing a proper home, a proper family…

In her mind—and perhaps she was indeed being a hair too pessimistic—the presence of Denzel and Marlene—_her _children—at the old lady's home meant that they don't want to be _hom_e. And that thought burns her and digs deep under her skin because she's already failing at keeping Cloud home; she doesn't want to fail with the kids as well. But maybe that's the whole problem. It is all too much a reminder of how badly she'd failed at being an anchor for Cloud, for anybody.

No one stays nhome because, quite frankly, no one _wanted _to be home. She isn't good enough, doesn't offer enough of herself to make them want to stay.

Her eyes burn and she tilts her head up to the sky, as if hoping that gravity would pull her tears back under the confines of her eyelids.

She hates being so weak and she can't stand the charming little house and its charming little owner because it reminds her of everything she _couldn't_ be. She has never been—a part of her fears that she never _will__ be_—the one people come to. The children have Granny, and Cloud…Cloud has his church.

"Can I help you dear?" The voice is everything she expected it would be, sympathetic and gentle and wise.

Tifa pulls her gaze away from the sky and blinks away the residual tears before her vision clears and she's looking at everything she wants to be when she's old and graying. It's not so much the soft lines around her mouth and eyes that tell of a lifetime of smiles and laughter or even the ease with which she holds herself. It's the wisdom in her eyes and the kindness in her voice that draws her in.

"I…I was just wondering if my kids, if Denzel and Marlene are here."

Lips turn upwards and eyes come alive with delight. "Ah…so _you _must be the lovely Miss Lockhart. I've heard much good about you."

Tifa shakes her head modestly. "Please, it's just Tifa."

"Of course, my dear. Come in, come in. The children are playing hide and seek in the backyard. Oh, I really should have sent notice that they were here. I'm terribly sorry if they worried you."

"No no. I had a feeling they'd be here. I just…wanted to make sure."

"Of course." Granny's smile grows wider as they sit together at the breakfast nook. "Those two are very lucky they have you as their mother."

"Oh I'm not their mother."

"No? And what makes a woman a _mother_, I wonder?"

Tifa has no response but it seems that Granny isn't expecting one. Tifa tries to keep from squirming when Granny's analytical eyes watch her carefully, especially when she feels like the older woman is picking her apart in her mind and thinking what an awful guardian she is. The silence that stretches between them is nigh unbearable, but just when she thinks she can't take it anymore, Granny's soft voice cuts through the silence.

"It's rather difficult, isn't it? Caring for children who are not 'your own'?"

"I think…that it can be sometimes, but I don't think it makes a difference that Denzel and Marlene aren't related to me by blood," she replies sharply and a part of her wonders where the vehemence came from.

Granny sits back, a satisfied look in her eyes. "You are very strong, dear, but…you are also weak."

Tifa feels like she's just been slapped. This was exactly what she'd been afraid of, exactly why she'd avoided Granny all this time. The affirmation that she just isn't _enough_. Even as she says it, she feels it's too little to offer. "I—I love them."

"My sweet child, no one would ever doubt that. I say you are weak not because I think you incapable of caring for them; from what I've heard from the children, my sentiments run in quite the opposite direction. It's just that I can't help but feel that _you_ think that you're not good enough."

Tifa visibly winces as she diverts her eyes to the napkin holder on the table. "Am I?"

Granny gently lifts her chin so that they're eye level. "I don't know what you've been through in your life that has made you so insecure about yourself, but I will tell you this. It has never been a question of whether or not we are 'good enough,' but rather if we love enough to keep on giving up ourselves. True unconditional love is the most difficult kind because it is unassuming. It's often not seen, not heard, and I'll be the first to admit that it's oftentimes hard to keep it up. But love is ninety percent commitment and ten percent emotion and it is never, _never_ in vain." Granny lets go of her chin sweeps her bangs out of her face with a motherly touch. "Who knows what it really means to be 'good enough,' but you'll find that it doesn't matter so much as long as we don't give up on the ones we love.

It's with a trembling voice that Tifa whispers "Thank you" but it's the most heartfelt one she's ever given. She still doesn't know whether she can do it, to love wholeheartedly all the while knowing that she might never be loved the same way in return but for now she's been given new resolve.

So when the children are done with their game of hide and seek, she can kiss them both on the top of their heads—even though Denzel's is tainted with the bitter taste of Geostigma marring his forehead—and feel for the first time like a _real_ mother. And it's with a smile that she can greet Cloud and heat up his dinner when he _does_ happen to come home that night because she has chosen to love nonetheless.

Maybe it's not enough to keep them from leaving home, but at least she can let them know that _she'll _be here regardless.

And maybe...maybe with time she'll see that she was never just "good enough." She is so much more.

* * *

A/N: Remember that this is from Tifa's POV if the relationships (i.e. hers and Cloud's) seem really distant. At this point, everything is exaggerated in her mind and she's having a hard time remembering the good while just seeing the bad.

Thanks to: **mom calling**, StrifeVsTribal, **Fairheartstrife**, Mind Astray, **DreadPirateSephy**, shadowneko003, **Sacred3**, Part of Youth, **Akila8**, ishmaranara, **This Isnt Claire**, vx-Luna-xv, **Qwi-Xux**, VanillaCookiesxD

Yay for breaking 200 reviews!! You guys are awesome!


	16. Shibboleth

A/N: Summers are supposed to be relaxing, a time when creativity shoots through the roof in response to the extra time on one's hands due to being on summer break. However, if you're like me, summer tends to suck the creative juices straight out of my brain. Sadness. Anyhow, I don't know how it is that I've had less time to write when I'm on break than when I actually have classes (I think it has something to do with the fact that the family members whom I only see a handful of times out of the year insist on my spending time with them every waking--and sleeping, in the case of my sister--hour. I love them all dearly, but it puts a serious cramp on my writing when I don't get to sit down in front of my laptop and type away like I'm doing now. :) Anyhow, hope you people who still have summer vacation are enjoying it, and as for the rest of you, I hope you're managing to beat the heat and your job. Here's my contribution.

It's a little different, slightly AU...but not. Yeah, I know that helps a lot. In any case, enjoy!

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY (7/7)**

**Shibboleth**

_n. 1. A peculiarity of pronunciation, behavior, mode of dress, etc., that distinguishes a particular group of persons. 2. A slogan; a catchword. 3. A common saying or belief with little current meaning or truth._

Tifa couldn't quite remember the first time they started showing up at her bar. It must have been sometime when she was seventeen though because that was the one year she hadn't been bartending (Master Zangan had left her in the care of a certain man named Barret Wallace who owned a bar named Seventh Heaven. In exchange for room and board, Tifa had insisted on helping out in the bar and eventually took over bartending when she showed off her martial arts-honed dexterity and quick reflexes. That worked well for a couple of months until Barret found out she wasn't even old enough to drink alcohol, much less serve it. From then on, he only allowed her to wait the tables until she turned eighteen. Then she went back behind the bar. Coincidentally, business also started picking up around that time too…) and she remembered that her first conversation with them hadn't happened until the fifth or sixth time they returned. If she were bartending, she would have had to talk with them the very first night they came.

Whatever the situation surrounding their first meeting (or rather Tifa's first noticing them), the most distinct memory she could recollect about the incident was that she thought they were vastly out of place in the dingy little diner. While Tifa's arrival—along with her somewhat neat-freakish tendencies—had kept the Seventh Heaven in relatively clean condition, even she could only do so much for a building in the slums. As much as she'd tried to keep everything clean and tidy, she couldn't do anything to fix the molding wood in the walls nor could she completely plug up the large cracks in the ceiling. The windows would never be without the thick wooden planks nailed across its length (unprotected glass was too easy and too alluring a target for some desperate sod to attempt a robbery), and the tables and chairs would always be chained to the floor (she'd soon realized that desperate people would sell anything they could get their hands on and move).

So when they walked in that very first time with their elegantly simple, navy blue suits—the very same ones she'd later come to recognize as shibboleths authenticating their identity as Turks—her eyes had immediately been drawn.

She should have been nervous because men like that didn't come into places like this unless there was a reason for it, and while Barret didn't let her in on much of what he did, she knew enough about his side job to know that attracting the attention of men like these would bode ill for them all. But, strange as it was, she wasn't nervous. Just curious.

And curious she should have been for it was a curious situation indeed. At least once a week, they came, they drank, and then they left. Nothing else. And though for several months they were wary of Shinra's personal guards coming in to arrest them all (or worse), nothing of the sort ever happened. If anything, their customers had settled down considerably with far less brawls breaking out than usual.

And thus had a somewhat unexpected relationship been formed. She came to know them as Reno and Rude, one a fireball of energy contained within a lackadaisical façade and the other a steady mountain who only spoke if it was absolutely necessary. They were good customers, although Reno tended on the side of the overly flirtatious, but overall they were more of a pleasure than a pain to have in her bar.

She never could figure out why they came to The Seventh Heaven in particular though, or any bar in the slums for that matter. The short time she'd lived in Midgar taught her that the Turks were Shinra Company's personal elite force and that meant that they could well afford to pass their time in a bar on top of the plate rather than in the slums. But they were here nonetheless and she found herself unwilling, or maybe scared, to question why they _were_ here.

It wasn't until much later, until the Turks had been coming to the bar with some regularity for several months that she got some inkling of why they came as often as they did. It was far from what she'd expected.

The day itself had been tediously normal. She'd gone out to meet with their liquor suppliers and to buy groceries home to cook. She was tired—it had been an awfully long night the day before—and she'd let her guard down for just one moment, her thoughts wondering as they inevitably do to _him_, the boy she'd once known—and always regretted that she'd never really _known_—with the earnest, too blue eyes.

But one moment in the slums was all it took and before she knew what was happening, she'd been dragged into an alley and thrown against the wall, a sharp knife kissing her neck. Cursing herself for being so stupid (how could someone trained under Master _Zangan_ get ambushed?), she stood still as she took stock of her situation. The eyes of her attacker were wild and crazed, probably high on something, and the overwhelming scent of alcohol clung to his breath.

With as steady a voice as she could manage, she reached into her pocket to produce a crumpled and pitifully small wad of gil and prayed that money was all the man was after. "Here. This is all I have."

Her assailant looked at her suspiciously before taking the proffered gil with his free hand. Her blood iced over when he pressed himself closer. "That's not all you have that I want."

She wished he would have just taken the gil and gone—she understood just how hard life in the slums could be and she could empathize with those who had to resort to stealing to survive—but her eyes hardened the moment he hinted he wanted more. Shifting so that her knee could easily be brought up quickly into a position that could deal the most amount of pain to any man, Tifa was about to land the blow when large hands grabbed the man from behind and threw him down like a ragdoll.

She looked up to see the towering figure of Rude standing over her assailant with what she recognized as anger lacing his tense body. The tall man did not get angry easily or even show much emotion on a consistent basis, but she'd seen the indicators before when he'd been mildly irritated and his body language now told her that he was beyond pissed. Her assailant whimpered wordlessly and her lips curled up in disgust when she saw that he'd wet his pants from fear.

It was Reno's swaggering drawl that sliced through the tension between his partner and the object of his wrath. "Hey sis. Got yourself in a little trouble, eh?"

She couldn't help the somewhat relieved and nervous chuckle that his comment drew out of her lips. Leave it to Reno to make light of every situation. "Just a little."

The redhead smirked, but his bright blue eyes—which at certain angles sometimes reminded her of another set of eyes that haunted her thoughts so often—turned hard when he glanced at the man on the floor. He knelt down to whisper something she couldn't hear to the man and though Reno's expression looked amicable, her attacker's eyes grew wide with fear as he quickly scrambled away.

Tifa raised an eyebrow but wisely decided not to comment. They knew that she knew they were Turks; there was no need to explain anything they did.

She pushed off the wall and brought a hand up to gingerly touch her neck when the man had nicked her slightly when Rude had pulled him off of her. "Thank you."

He shook his head. "Don't mention it. Seriously. Don't want people to get the wrong impression that we actually help people on occasion."

"Then why'd you help me?"

He smirked before shoving his hands in his pant pockets and turned around. She sighed resignedly, thinking that that signaled the end of the exchange, but he surprised her when he spoke.

"I promised someone I'd make sure you're safe."

Now she was confused. Who did she know who could make a Turk keep a promise? "Who?"

He never responded.

…

It wasn't until much later, until the crisis with Sephiroth was done and over—both times—that she finally understood.

She'd gone into laundry room to put in another load when she heard voices from the garage, which was directly adjacent from the laundry room. One she easily pegged as Cloud's and the other…she was surprised when she recognized it as Reno's.

Unintentionally, she moved closer to the door separating the two.

"I never thanked you." Cloud. What would he be thanking Reno for?

"Eh, whatever. She's my friend too , ya know." Reno.

"You kept your promise."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. You really shouldn't trust Turks with things like this."

"But you came through."

There was a pause and she could only imagine that Reno was taken aback by Cloud. Feared by all as the Turks were, she reckoned they weren't often _trusted_. "Take care of her Strife. I've gotten her back to you safe and sound. Your job to keep her safe now."

"I will."

And then two sets of footsteps leading away from the house. She opened the door when she figured they'd be a good distance away and was surprised to see that Cloud was still standing there, since she'd assumed that the second set of footsteps had belonged to him. But really, she should have known Reno would never be without Rude.

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment before she broke into a shy smile. He'd been protecting her all along, even though he couldn't always be there himself. He'd remembered and he'd cared enough, even all those years ago, to make sure that she would always be safe. It made her want to giggle and laugh and dance around in mindless circles like a schoolgirl who just found out her secret admirer was her biggest crush.

Instead, she took the couple of steps to close the distance between them, pausing just a moment when she stood before him to take in his blue blue eyes and the somewhat surprised expression that colored them now. And then she draped her arms around his shoulders and leaned into him, her head fitting oh so comfortably against the crook of his neck. She let out a sigh of bliss when his arms came up around her waist almost automatically, one hand sliding up her back to thread his fingers through her hair.

It was nice knowing he had others promise to protect her in his stead, but this—the comfort and safety that she felt _only _when he was there beside her and holding her close—this was so much better. She'd only ever wanted _him _for a hero, after all.

* * *

A/N: I really wanted to write a kiss in there at the end, but decided that the theme I'm going for is protection and in my mind, nothing beats being wrapped up in strong arms to make me feel safe.

Because you all make me smile with your awesome reviews: **VanillaCookiesxD**, Akila8, **StrifeVsTribal**, Mind Astray, **mom calling**, randomcat23, **Sacred3**, kitsune13, **ishmaranara, **Part of Youth, **vx-Luna-xv**, Chibimonster123, **DreadPirateSephy**, Qwi-Xux


	17. Cynosure

A/N: I meant to keep this one short. I really did. But I just kept on typing and it wouldn't stop. In fact, the style of this oneshot kinda reflects that. Very little editing happened and until I come back tomorrow (I'm still recovering from yet another late-night paper writing session and my mind isn't functioning all too normally) and cringe at the lack of fluidity, I'm not doing anything to it. Anyhow, hope you all enjoy this little tidbit as I take on another common topic, hopefully in a way that is a little different from most.

Oh, and sorry for not getting around to updating **PRO BONO**, but trust that I'm working on it. It's just that I've managed to lose myself in the plot somewhere. I'll find my way back out eventually, but for now, I plead and beg for your forgiveness and patience!

Anyhow, enjoy this new installment!

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY (8/11)**

**Cynosure**

_n. 1. An object that serves as a focal point of attention and admiration. 2. That which serves to guide or direct. 3. [Capitalized]. The northern constellation Ursa Minor, which contains the North Star; also, the North Star itself._

It was a strange phenomenon, what happened every time Tifa Lockhart walked into a room. All conversation would dim as she became the unparalleled cynosure of every single pair of eyes. It wasn't so much because she was beautiful—though she was utterly, unbelievably gorgeous in his less than partial eyes—as much as it was a certain quality about her that made people feel warm and comfortable.

The men would stare agape, their mouths often dropping slightly open at times (more often than not, he just wanted to pummel his fists into their faces for even daring to turn their eyes on her, but he knew very well that he could not fault them for something he so often fell victim to himself), and the women watched her with a kind of envy that could not hate. They wished they could have that same magnetic pull, that same gravity, yet simultaneously knowing that they never would. But they could not hate her because she was too honest, too real about who she was (and where her affections lay).

A light blush coloring her pale cheeks showed that she was embarrassed by the attention. Her humility always warmed his heart. Even after a lifetime of being the center of attention, Tifa Lockhart was never one to ask for it; most of the time, she didn't even want it. She remained adamantly firm in her belief that there was absolutely no reason that anyone should look twice in her direction. She would be content to live in the shadows and please people through the little things that don't need to be noticed.

But at the same time, she was so very graceful and gracious in her manner of handling such attention. There were few awkward moments with her and she had a true gift in asking the right questions to get at the heart of whatever problem people may be facing.

It was probably why her patrons always returned to the Seventh Heaven when they needed a willing ear.

He knew all of this. In fact, he loved this aspect of her, that she was always so compassionate.

But sometimes (like tonight for instance), he couldn't help but feel a little put out by the fact that it was long past 2 am and closing time, and there was still a man nursing a drink in his hands (and several bottles by his elbows which were propped up on the bar counter) while seemingly pouring out his life (sob) story to Tifa. Who, much to Cloud's annoyance, seemed like she was still listening with her full attention.

Now, usually Cloud could understand when a patron wanted to stay a little later after closing to talk, but this was bordering on ridiculous. Late nights and early mornings were the only times where he didn't have to share Tifa with anybody, and right now this pathetic drunk was cutting into Cloud's fiercely cherished Tifa-time.

Cloud had to do something about it.

Because, damn it, sometimes he really didn't _want _her to be compassionate! He wanted her to be selfish and to kick people out if they were taking up too much of her time (it conveniently slipped his mind that he had been exceedingly grateful that she had been patient enough to wait for _him_). He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her right now!

Setting his mind firm on his course, Cloud stood with a slight jerk—he hated sitting in the same place for so many hours at a time—and covered the small distance between his stool in the corner and the customer a couple of seats down.

"Tifa's husband says it's closing time."

The man looked up and squinted, the copious amount of alcohol he'd consumed blurring his vision. "Who's Tifa'sh huzzzzzzzben?" He fixed his eyes steadily on Cloud for a moment, almost as if he were thinking real hard and he said, "Whassa huzzben?"

Cloud lifted an eyebrow and glanced over at Tifa, wondering how she'd listened to over an hour of the man's senseless ramblings and still hadn't been struck with the sudden urge to hit something. She shrugged with a twinkle in her eyes before reaching up to remove her secret weapon. Ear plugs.

_Damn, that girl is smart, _thought Cloud with pride. Then he frowned when he realized that _he_ had been the only one listening to the drunk all night. Really though, Cloud should have known better. Tifa always kept a pair or two of ear plugs at the bar for cases just like this, when a customer would get plastered just enough to keep rambling but not enough to pass out.

Cloud thought it was devious. Tifa told him it was common sense.

His frown turned into a scowl when the inebriated customer reached his hands out blindly to catch onto one of Tifa's hands and cradled it next to his cheek as he broke out in sobs. That…was _it_!

Without really thinking about it, Cloud grabbed the poor man by the neckline of his shirt and with one swift _yank_ pulled him off the stool and often the ground with a sick thud. Fortunately for the customer, he was too drunk to feel any pain. Which numbness came in handy when Cloud proceeded to literally drag the man across the floor and tossed him out of the bar before Tifa could even protest.

Tifa gaped at him for several moments before she exploded. "Cloud! What the hell was that?!"

"He was touching you inappropriately."

"He was drunk, and it was my hand."

"He was touching you."

Trapped somewhere between indignant wrath and giddy delight, Tifa opted for neither. Sighing, she reached up to sweep Cloud's single lock of hair that always fell into his face behind his ear, and then flattened her hand to stoke gently against his cheek.

"Cloud, whatever am I ever going to do with you?"

He had a couple of ideas but didn't think this would be the best time to express them. Maybe later tonight when she forgot about this whole fiasco…Or, better yet, he could always just _make_ her forget…

He snapped out of his fantasies when her voice sharpened with that particular lilt that meant she knew he wasn't listening and that he'd better _start_ listening soon. So he did.

"He was torn up over whether he should propose to his childhood friend or not. He didn't think he deserved her or even that he could make her happy, but he loves her so much it hurts him to be away from her." Tifa watched him carefully and was pleased to see the traces of nostalgia lingering in his eyes. Softly, she continued, "He finally decided to do it anyway because he finally figured out that she deserved to be happy and if she was happiest being with him—though he could never understand why—then, well, he'd just damn well better make sure he's always there. Then, he took it a little overboard with the liquid courage, but for good reason."

She waited for the words and the reassurance in them to sink in completely before teasing, "Please tell me that all sounds familiar."

Cloud couldn't help but smile at that. Yep, he'd been a fool back then too. He remembered very little of the night before he'd proposed, only that he'd gotten himself smashed like a pumpkin (though he did vaguely recall Cid and Yuffie cheering him on as he chugged and chugged and chugged) and made the mistake of not waiting for his hangover to completely go away before popping the question. If memory served him correctly, his head had been halfway in the toilet bowl when he'd shoved the little velvet box at her in a moment of complete stupidity in which he'd asked her to hold it for him until he'd recovered enough to propose...

It made for an interesting story, if nothing else.

But, in the end, it all worked out because he was still here, and not only was he still here, he was actually married to this beautiful, wonderful, angelic girl. It was hard not to pinch himself sometimes, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

But other times he knew very well that he wasn't dreaming because he still managed to get himself into trouble with his girl. Like now, for instance. He knew it was a bit childish, but he couldn't help but quip back, "He was still touching you."

"For the love of…" Her eyes darkened to that lovely shade of murderous burgundy—which Cloud would have thought was breathtakingly dazzling if it weren't for the fact that every time that particular shade appeared meant impending doom for him—and she poked his chest to accent her words. "You" _poke "_should know" _poke_ "that you" _poke _"have absolutely _nothing_" _poke_ "to be jealous of" _poke. _

He rubbed his chest when she finally stopped poking him and wondered not for the first time how she managed to train her appendages into fingers of steel. Then all trivial thoughts left him when her shoulders suddenly drooped in weariness and her eyes lost their luster. With a sigh, she picked up a rag and began to wipe down the tabletops.

Damn. She was really frustrated if she would rather clean tables than look at him, he realized with some amount of shock. It wasn't something he thought she'd take so seriously.

"I wish you'd trust me, Cloud."

Her words stunned him more than anything and he felt like he'd been kicked in the gut by wild chocobo (damn things hurt like hell). Eyes suddenly turning very serious, he forcefully turned her to face him again. It was hard to believe she still thought he didn't trust her, but he realized with a grimace that he'd never really done much good in the trust department.

With a quiet sigh, he leaned in to kiss her forehead and slowly drifted his way down to her lips, pausing to enjoy the soft play of her breath against his mouth before pressing more firmly against her, the slide of their lips and tongues reminding both of them that theirs was a love _built_ on trust. Sometimes it was hard to remember, but the current that drove their relationship was loyalty. And loyalty is always faithful, always trusting.

Pulling back to breathe, Cloud leaned his forehead against hers. "Of course I trust you. I know your judgment and I trust your ability to kick any one's asses if they step over the line. I trust you more than _anything_." His bright cobalt eyes gleamed with determination and sincerity and Tifa couldn't help not feeling upset with him anymore. He brought his lips up to land a butterfly kiss on her nose. "I trust you, Tifa. But that sure as hell doesn't mean I don't get jealous. Jealousy isn't always wrong you know."

She smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. "I know."

He had every right to be jealous because she belonged to him, and he to her. Love is fiercely jealous because those involved deserve, _demand,_ nothing less than the other's entirety. Because the moment they'd promised themselves to each other on the altar, it was for forever, and not just a part or even a majority of themselves but the unadulterated, _whole _self. Cloud wasn't jealous because he didn't trust her; he was jealous that was his _right_ as her husband.

She realized that she loved him so much more for it. Whispering another quiet, "I know," she leaned up to take his lips again.

* * *

A/N: It was difficult to maintain a good balance at the end. I wanted to get the point across that jealousy isn't always a bad thing, but I also tried to avoid making this sound like some freaky obsessive stalker-ish thing. Which it's not. (I hope nobody got that impression). I don't think it's healthy to glare at every male that tries to touch your girl (or vice versa), but I also think a certain degree of jealousy is unavoidable and in fact perfectly legitimate. Hence this..._thing._ Hope it came out okay.

**A million thanks to**: Alialka, **Part of Youth**, mom calling, **Sacred3**, randomcat23, **et cetera et cetera**, StrifeVsTribal, **indigoia**, Mind Astray, **vLuna**, DreadPirateSephy, **chrisVIII**, Faith Angel

Your kindness makes my (fanfiction) world go round! :)


	18. Myrmidon

A/N: What, did you all think I forgot about this little side project of mine? Never! (For that matter, neither have I abandoned my other stuff. This quarter has just been bad for me.) Anyhow, this chapter presents a different, somewhat darker view of Cloud and Tifa's Nibelheim promise. Or at least from Tifa's perspective. There's also a healthy dose of fluff. :) Soooo....that is my offering. Please don't hurt me for not updating...well, just about everything. This is also mostly unedited so please forgive what minor errors there may be. I probably won't edit anything unless there's something glaringly awful.

Drop a review please!!

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY (12/2)**

**Myrmidon**

_n. 1.(Capitalized) A member of a warlike Thessalian people who followed Achilles on the expedition against Troy. 2. A loyal follower, especially one who executes orders without question._

In the days following Meteor, Tifa had learned to hate the Promise.

The fervor of her resentment easily rivaled the euphoria she'd felt when the Promise was first made. Should she have allowed herself to dwell upon it, she would have found it painfully ironic that something that had been the cause of such joy at its inception would become such a bane to her existence. But a bane it had indeed become because somehow, someway, it had transformed into something she'd never intended it to be.

It was a prison, and it was the only thing keeping Cloud with her. And for that she resented it.

Oh, in the beginning she'd thought it a blessing.

Cloud had been attentive, caring and although he remained intractably reserved, she truly thought that life was taking a turn for the better.

And then Geostigma happened and all her illusions were shattered. Her happy imagination that Cloud stayed with her for _her_ quickly evaporated into the realization that she would never be enough. What was worse, she finally saw how manipulative she had been in trying to tie Cloud down with a Promise.

"_You're late,"_ she'd accused him. Of course, at the time she'd been hardly lucid, but that did not excuse her culpability for causing the naked anguish to spill out from his eyes. He hated himself for not keeping his promise—yes, it was _his,_ not theirs because he was the only one who had to sacrifice for it—and she had successfully added another burden to his already-sagging shoulders.

She frowned as her hands which had previously been wiping down the bar counter stilled. Cloud had returned once again after the Geostigma incident, but she knew now that she was being selfish in making him stay. How could she claim to care him, to _love_ him if she would not allow him to go where he truly desired?

Would she pull him along with fool Promises and have him follow like a myrmidon unto his death? No. No no no. She refused to use the Promise like that any longer. She refused to tie down a man whose heart so obviously yearned for the open road, but would not—no, _could_ not—go where his heart desired because of a Promise she had so foolishly extracted from him all those years ago.

And though her heart sorely ached at the prospect of releasing him from a Promise she'd clenched so tightly onto for nearly a decade now, she knew it was the right thing to do. In truth, it was the _only_ thing to do.

Resolved to take advantage of Cloud's honor no longer, she put the children to bed early that night and sat waiting for him at the bar. He rarely came home late anymore (home for whom? she wondered bitterly), so she knew her wait should not be long. Indeed, within the hour, the tell-tale sound of Fenrir's engine rumbled into the garage.

Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, knowing that this denial of herself would be the most painful thing she's ever done. The door attaching the garage to the main part of the bar creaked open and sudden silence marked his surprise at seeing her seated at the bar instead of upstairs in the living room.

She kept her eyes trained on the countertop until she felt a warm, gloved hand wrap lightly around her elbow. "What's wrong Tifa?"

She looked up and knew that was a mistake. The way he was looking at her, all concern and gentle affection, combined with the feel of his hand around her bare arm almost fooled her into believing that he might genuinely love her. She shook her head mentally. Who could love someone as manipulative as she?

Steeling herself, she firmly but not unkindly moved out of his reach. "We need to talk, Cloud."

His frown deepened, almost as if he was unhappy with her for putting distance between them, but he did not push. Words measured carefully, he replied, "What do we need to talk about?"

Somewhat inexplicably, a spark of anger flickered within her. How _dare_ he pretend like he cared for her! Grabbing a firm hold of her anger, she used it to anchor herself, to defend herself from believing he may truly care.

"Don't you think…" she stopped, struggling to find the right words before starting again. "You should leave." She winced even as she said it. That came out far harsher than she meant. "I mean, wouldn't you…wouldn't you be happier if you didn't have to come back?"

His eyes were unreadable, but they narrowed at her. "What are you talking about?"

The force of his gaze had her wanting to cower, but she straightened her back instead. This was for his own good, she reminded herself. "Cloud, I know you're not happy having to be tied down here. I'm just telling you that you don't have to feel guilty if you want to leave."

"I don't want to leave," he replied somewhat confusedly.

"Look, I know you feel like you have a responsibility or something to keep us safe, but I'm telling you that it's okay. You don't have to stay because of that. I…I release you from our promise."

His expression darkened immediately and so paralyzed was she by his heavy stare that she failed to notice that he had braced his arms against the kitchen counter on either side of her so that she was effectively trapped in his hold even though he wasn't quite touching her. "Listen to me carefully, Tifa. I don't know why you suddenly think that it's a burden for me to stay _home_" – the extra emphasis was not lost on her – "with you and Marlene and Denzel, but it's not. And you can't just release me from our promise because _I_ was the one who chose to make it. _I'm _the one who will keep it."

His words snapped her out of her reverie and she glared back at him. "That's just it Cloud! I don't want you feeling like you have to keep that promise. It was stupid in the first place, and I never should have made you do it!"

Her outburst had her breathing heavily with emotion, but her breath nearly caught in her throat when she saw the wounded expression flash across his face. He retreated somewhat—not enough for her to break out of his hold, but at least enough for her to think more clearly. He looked at her disapprovingly, as if disappointed that she would say such a thing.

Suddenly drained, she just wanted him to _stop pretending_ and she was about to say as much when his next words stopped her cold.

"Did you know…that it was that 'stupid' promise that got me through Hojo's experimenting alive?" He caught her eyes and she could feel the earnestness and the desire for her to understand flooding them. "Everything, _everything_, I've done in my life since then has been for that promise, and now you're telling me that it was pointless? Is my life pointless, Tifa?"

"That's…that's not what I meant," she protested weakly. To her horror, tears welled up beneath her eyelids and she was inundated with a sudden sense of sorrow. "I just…I don't want that promise to be the only thing that keeps you here with me. Do you understand? I can't stand it that it's a promise that keeps you here. Not me. Just a promise."

He stepped closer again, this time close enough for their upper bodies to touch. "What I don't get is why _you_ can't seem to understand that the only reason our promise means _anything_ at all to me is because I made that promise to _you_, Tifa. Gaia knows, I haven't been very good at expressing it, but it's always, always been you."

She shivered at the tantalizing feeling of his breath fanning across her cheeks, but even still she refused to believe that what he was saying could be true. "I don't want you feeling indebted to me."

"God Tifa, is that really what you think this is? That I feel indebted to you?" He leaned in to kiss away the rogue tear that had made its way down her cheek. He pulled back only enough to whisper, "Is that what you think _this_ is?"

Then his mouth closed completely over hers and she was lost in a myriad of emotions. Shock, pleasure, desire, love…all mixed together with unbelief, but even that too faded into only him and the feel of his lips caressing hers oh so ardently. His arms had, at some point, left their station on the counter and instead wrapped around her waist, one hand fisting in the hair at the nape of her neck. Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt as they both struggled to pull the other ever closer.

When Cloud finally pulled away, his voice was somewhat shaky and they were both breathing heavily.

"Yes, I am indebted to you. You cared for me, loved me, cried for me when I deserved it the least. But Tifa, please understand that what I feel for you, it's so much more than that. I do what I do because I just _can't_ do anything else. My love for you won't let me do anything short of keeping you safe and cherished as long as it's in my power to do so. Do you understand me? I love you, Tifa. Only, always you."

"Only me?" she repeated, disbelief still etched in her voice.

He kissed her again, gentler this time but filled with all the same emotions as before. "Only you."

…

Two months later, another Promise was made, this one represented by two rings and sealed with a kiss.

* * *

Many thanks to: **Part of Youth**, et cetera et cetera, **Sacred3**, ajax710vv, **indigoia**, Fairheartstrife, **StriveVsTribal**, randomcat23, **mom calling**, cyathula, **Vladimir the Hamster**, drbls, **Vanialla Raindrops**, vLuna, **chrisVIII**, sakR9, **Mayonaka no Ame**


	19. Distrait

A/N: Yay for chibi fluff! I initially wanted to leave it there, but adult!Cloud refused to be left out. Meh. I'm sure Tifa is happy about that too. :)

* * *

**WORD OF THE DAY (2/5)**

**Distrait **

_Adj. Divided or withdrawn in attention, especially because of anxiety._

When Cloud turned eight years old, he was annoyed to find that the beautiful (though he never let anyone know he thought that…girls have cooties after all) friendly little girl who lived next door was taller than him. He'd always known that he was slightly smaller than the rest of the boys in his grade, but to be bested by a _seven_ year old…his poor child ego could only take so much.

Frustrated at his vertical ineptitude, he grew increasingly distrait. His sullen attitude only served to worry that darling little girl whose favorite playmate (though her daddy didn't like him very much) suddenly refused to indulge in the games they used to delight in.

When his dark mood didn't clear for two whole days, she took it upon herself to solve the problem. She spent a long hour racking her brain for the best way to break him out of his funk and finally decided that they should play hero. His favorite game was always playing hero (even though sometimes she forced him to be the princess—ahem, _prince_—so that she could fight off the bad guys).

Decision made, she scurried over to the house next door and after a hurried "G'mornin' Mrs. Strife" to the nice lady who let her in the house, she went straight to Cloud's room.

"Cloud! It's Tifa. Can I come in?"

When he didn't respond, she frowned and opened the door. There was Cloud sitting dourly on the edge of his bed.

"Why didn't you answer me Cloud?" Again, she received no response. A cute little pout forming on her features, she planted herself next to him on his bed and poked him. "Come on, Cloud! Let's play hero!" When he _still_ didn't respond, she changed tactics and put a little whine into her voice. "Pleeease? I'll even let you be the hero."

This got a response from him though it wasn't the one she wanted.

"How can I be the hero when I'm not even taller than the princess?" he demanded.

She frowned at the logic of this. "Who says the princess can't be taller than the hero?"

"The princess can't be taller than the hero 'cause if she's taller than that means she's stronger too and if she's stronger then—" He suddenly cut himself off with a blush.

Curious, she scooted a little closer to him. "Then what?"

"Then…Then the princess wouldn't need the hero."

She pondered this for a moment. "Is _that_ what you've been all moody about?"

"I'm not moody!"

She rolled her eyes with an air of grown-up-ness. "Of course you're not."

Stubbornly, he looked down at where his feet were swinging idly off the bed. Then he looked over at Tifa's feet and his frown deepened. Even now her feet hung closer to the ground than his own.

He nearly jumped when he felt Tifa's hands close around one of his.

"W-what're you doin'?"

She didn't answer him immediately but instead spread out her hand against his. There was something fascinating about the way her pale skin looked against his darker tone. She let out a triumphant laugh. "See! Look, your hand is bigger than mine."

Scowling, he tried to ignore the burning in his cheeks while pulling away his hand (though he didn't actually try hard enough to separate them from her grasp). "So? What's that got to do with anything?"

She bopped him lightly on the forehead. "Dummy. Don't you know that your hands and feet grow faster than the rest of your body? That means that if you have big hands, you'll have to grow into them and be tall!"

He noticeably brightened. "…So...since I have bigger hands than you, it means I'll get taller than you sometime?"

She nodded with a dazzling grin. "Yup! So no more being moody okay?"

"I wasn't moody…" he grumbled with a glare, though the effect was somewhat nullified by the excited smile tugging at his lips. He even forgot to be grossed out (embarrassed) by the fact that they were still holding hands.

…

Smirking inwardly at the memory, Cloud carefully navigated over the back of the sleeping figure pressed close against his body to gently uncurl her fingers and spread his hand out over it. He was satisfied to see that his hand was now large enough to curve over the tips of her fingers.

Tifa stirred at the ticklish sensation of the ends of his hair brushing against her cheek. "What are you doing, Cloud?" she mumbled, a note of contentment laced through her sleepy murmur.

He turned his head to land a light kiss on the corner of her mouth, a boyish twinkle lighting up his eyes. "Look. My hand is bigger than yours."

She snuck an eye open and smiled at the sight of his hand engulfing hers. "I told you so." She closed her eyes again and snuggled closer to him. "And you were getting all moody about it."

"I wasn't moody."

"Of course not," she replied with what would have been a roll of her eyes, a very familiar response. "Now let me sleep. You may not have to worry about carrying an additional twenty-five percent of your body weight around in your stomach all day but I do. The baby is making me cranky enough without sleep deprivation to add on top of it."

She felt his smile grow wider at the mention of their creation in her body and it prompted a small smile from her too. "I love you," he rumbled against her throat. The hand that was threaded through hers moved so that both their hands rested on her swollen belly. "I love _you_ too."

Just as he was falling asleep, Tifa's voice drifted up, half-muffled from the pillow. "Just so you know, it wouldn't have mattered even if the hero ended up shorter than the princess. Sometimes the princess may be taller, but she wants her hero with her anyway."

He hugged her tighter in response.

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Thank you: **cyathula**, Sacred3, **Part of Youth**, mom calling, **randomcat23**, Sekihara Tae, **Vanilla Raindrops**, AshleyMck712, **kitsune13**, vLuna, **et cetera et cetera**, ClarityInObscurity, **StrifeVsTribal**, NinjaWriter11


	20. Pyrrhic Victory

A/N: Wow, I really do seem to write in spurts. Thank you so much for hanging in with me for 20 chapters thus far! Hopefully the next thing to be updated will be **PRO BONO **but don't be too surprised/disappointed if I end up posting something else first (I have a couple of oneshots in the works).

Anyhow, this one is set game-time right before the crew makes the descent into Northern Cave (i.e. a little bit before the infamous Highwind scene). I've taken some liberties with Cloud's character so please bear with me for that. Please read the author's note at the bottom (after you've read the fic first!) if you want a better explanation. Other than that, hope you enjoy this and learn a new word(s) while you're at it! Thanks for reading!

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**WORD OF THE DAY (4/10)**

**Pyrrhic victory **

_n. A victory achieved at great or excessive cost; a ruinous victory._**  
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Bullet wounds were the worst, she mused as she rubbed the invisible scar just to the left of her belly button, chocolate eyes staring out sightlessly at the horizon from the railing of the Highwind.

In terms of straight pain, there were others that hurt more, but these were by far the most aggravating. Other injuries—lacerations, burns, broken bones, sprained ligaments, internal bleeding—could all be easily mended by use of a cure materia or with Aeri—

She dared not finish the thought. The sorrow was still too fresh.

No, bullet wounds were different. The bite of it was sharp, but the worst aspect of it was that a simple cure spell would not suffice. To cure a bullet wound without extracting the bullet would be to knit living flesh over a tablet of cold metal, an experience far more excruciating than she would have believed.

She'd only done it once, she recalled. It happened during their raid of the Sector Seven pillar; all it took was a moment of carelessness that landed her a bullet the stomach. In her haste, she hadn't thought about the consequences of casting cure on herself immediately after the battle and had been unpleasantly surprised when the piercing pangs only increased in intensity.

She'd ignored it as best as she could during their skirmish with Reno and their ensuing escape, but as soon as they'd stepped foot into Aerith's home and she was given the opportunity to lock herself away into the bathroom, her legs folded underneath her and she collapsed from the overwhelming sensation tearing at her from the inside out.

It had been an awful experience. Clenching her jaws against the lancing agony, she'd pulled herself to the bathtub and used the small utility knife she kept in the side of her boots to reopen a path to the buried bullet. She'd thought she'd muffled the small noise of pain she couldn't help but let out, but Cloud had come bearing down the door, eyes flashing something dangerous.

The sight of him—tense, wild…beautiful—made her breath catch even as bolts of hot lightning nearly debilitated her.

Glowing mako swept the small bathroom and upon finding no one else, his gaze had softened fractionally before it landed on the bloody mess of her leg. The rage returned and while she was fairly certain it wasn't directed at her, the intensity of his ferocity startled her.

He hadn't said anything, simply approached her quietly, eyes narrowed with some unnamed emotion. He'd been tender with her as he extracted the bullet from her torso, too tender because it made her think too much, feel too much, so much that she couldn't decide whether the sharp pangs hurt more or the wrenching sensations he pulled forth in her heart.

As Tifa fingered the nonexistent scar—the physical traces rendered invisible by a carefully cast cure spell—she imagined it still stung.

It was ironic, how close to mirroring reality that little bullet wound came. That which hurts the most is often not seen; it is the wounds that have never healed, or rather, the wounds that have superficially healed over something not meant to remain in the body that generates the greatest heartache. And so pain comes. It is not necessarily visible, but it aches and burns all the same.

The tears slipped out unbidden.

Was it worth it, she wondered. Even if they find Sephiroth and make him pay for all the hell that he has caused, was all this really worth it? What then, but an empty Pyrrhic victory when one of their own—sweet, sweet girl who should have lived a full, _happy_ life—was the cost?

She felt even worse when she could not deny that she—just a small fraction of her, but there nonetheless—resented Aerith for dying so abruptly, not because she missed her—which she did—but because it made her situation with Cloud even more tenuous and dubious than ever before.

He'd treated her differently after the City of the Ancients but not in the way she'd expected him. She'd expected that he would isolate himself from the group—from her—even more, but it was the opposite that happened. No, he began treating her in ways that made her heart swell dangerously and stomach flutter with sparks of something she dare not name. All through Icicle Inn to his subsequent lapse of sanity, he'd been extra attentive, caring, and though she knew that a little hope was a dangerous thing, she couldn't help hoping all the same. Even after they survived their dip in the lifestream, he'd been exceptionally forward with his intentions (intentions that had her heart pounding at the mere thought of).

Yet...

Yet she hated it because she could not completely purge the thought that he was on the rebound.

She'd been able to bury those doubts, initially beneath the overwhelming worry for Cloud while in his comatose state and afterwards behind the impending doom of the planet, but sometimes—just like how the pain is worse when flesh is healed over a bullet—those doubts came roaring back with a fury that made her want to cry…

She knew that he was standing behind her though his SOLDIER training—no, she amended, not SOLDIER training, just the mako—ensured that his movements were effectively soundless. She wondered how it was that she never developed that ability to be so aware of him until he left her that first time so many years ago.

"Cloud," she acknowledged softly.

He braced his hands on the railing—one on each side of her—and leaned in to press a light kiss to the back of her neck. It was such an intimate act, one that had her torn between giving in to his touch and being repulsed by the thought that he only came to her because his first choice was dead. She shook the thought from her head immediately, but she couldn't dispel the queasy feeling in her stomach.

"What are you thinking about?" he murmured, nuzzling his nose against the hollow of her collarbone.

It still amazed her sometimes how easy he was with showing his affection for her. She had thought him to be the intensely private type—which he was in many respects—but sometimes she thought him desperate to prove to her how much he cared.

She shook her head, a gesture indicating more that she wasn't sure how to put it into words more than anything. It was so tempting, so comforting to lean back into the safety of his body, solid and sturdy behind her.

"Is it worth it Cloud?" His head lifted off her shoulder so she knew that he was listening. "The fighting. Will it really be worth it?"

He pondered this for a while before replying, "I don't know if that's something we can ever answer in this lifetime. But, I think…I think that if all this fighting ends up in a world where we can live peacefully, where we…" he paused momentarily and the next part was spoken softly, earnestly "…where you and I can settle down and have a family and be happy…I think it's worth it."

She turned in his embrace to stare into his eyes, wanting to see the honesty there before she could believe it. "Is that really what you want Cloud?"

The corners of his lips turned up, not enough to be a real smile, but just enough for her to really _know_. "Above all else."

She melted against him in response.

The phantom pain of the bullet wound stung even now, but moments like this convinced her that time would indeed salve its burn.

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A/N: I know I didn't address the matter of Cloud being on the rebound very clearly so let me do it here. He's _not_ on the rebound! How I made the logic work in my head is that since Aerith died, the Zack part of him is no longer clamoring for him to put Aerith above everyone else. Therefore, Cloud can be more true to his own feelings for Tifa and therefore act upon them. The reason he's so earnest to show his affection for Tifa is because he subconsciously feels like he has to make up for ignoring her when Aerith was alive. Granted, I don't know if I believe that Cloud would be able to make the shift so smoothly, but the game didn't have him in a complete breakdown over Aerith's death (tragic as it was) so I took some liberties.

Anyhow, sorry for all the author's notes. I'm trying to cut back on my rambling, but it's still a work in progress. :)

Thank you's to: **et cetera et cetera**, mom calling, **Asterxia Sy**, amethyst-key, **Part of Youth**, Sacred3, **Vanilla Raindrops**, JingYee, **kerapal bubbles**, vLuna, **StrifeVsTribal**, fragmentsofmemories16, **randomcat23**, Spiritslayer, **Devaro Ayanami**


	21. Toothsome

A/N: Yay! I haven't written one of these in ages. I miss them. haha. Anyhow, this is pure fluff which is needed considering all the grief I'm gonna have Cloud and Tifa go through in **THE KILLING HAND.**

Enjoy!

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**WORD OF THE DAY (May 29, 2011)**

**Toothsome**

_Adj. 1. Pleasing to the taste; delicious; as, "a toothsome pie." __**2. **Agreeable; attractive; as, "a toothsome offer." __**3. **Sexually attractive._

Cloud Strife was an attractive man under normal (all) circumstances. This was nothing new, and this fact was constantly attested to by the number of women (single and otherwise) who started frequenting the Seventh Heaven after he became a regular figure at her bar.

It was annoying to have so many eyes ogling at him—mine, biyatches, snarled her inner animal, which she of course never (rarely) let loose—but she bore with it because 1) they brought in good money and, more importantly, 2) they didn't dare do anything more than look.

It was fortunate that over the years, Tifa had managed to build up some sort of defense against him. Not an immunity, never that, but at least she was at the point where her brain functions were relatively normal around him. Until he touched her, that is, and once he discovered the joys of touching…well, let's just say that much of the time Tifa had alone with him was spent in a sensual daze. Not that she was complaining.

So yes, while Cloud was a tasty piece of eye candy, Tifa could usually hold her own. Usually.

Unfortunately (fortunately), today was destined not to be one of those days.

Her mouth felt dry and the thudding of her heart pulsed heated blood to the most intimate spots in her body because, hot damn, _no one_ should look as utterly delicious as all that.

All eyes—male, female, attracted, envious, lustful, _all_—focused on him when Cloud strode through the bar doors with that self-assured stride. It wasn't arrogant or cocky, but it didn't need to be when every step he took was like pure sex.

Instead of his customary heavy cable-knit vest, he wore a sleek, deep burgundy shirt made of the finest flowing silk. The top button was undone and though it only showed the smallest triangle of skin, it tempted and taunted that the rest of his body would be just as smooth and _touchable_. His muscular legs were caressed by a pair of simple, but elegant black trousers that hugged his thighs, but not obscenely so.

But perhaps the thing that caught the most attention, besides all that toothsome goodness on display, was his expression.

Intent and deadly focused, his entrancing blue gaze never left Tifa's and she suddenly had the distinct impression that she was the prey to be hunted down.

He stopped just before the bar, and with that low rumble of his voice he used when he wanted to be obeyed without question, he said, "Bar's closed."

It was only two words, and would have been barely audible under normal circumstances, but on this occasion, as soon as the words were uttered, there was a mass scramble of people and chairs as people tossed their money on the tables in their rush to obey. Nobody wanted to mess with Cloud Strife when he looked like he was ready to rip apart anyone who came between him and his quarry.

Lucky Tifa.

Within minutes, the Seventh Heaven was empty of all customers and Tifa couldn't help the quiet yelp that squeaked out of her mouth when Cloud suddenly lifted her over the bar (who needs swinging doors when you can just go over?) and into his arms. His body heat seared through the leather of her bartending outfit, and, as expected, her brain completely scrambled.

"Hi," she eventually breathed out.

"Hi," he responded with just the slightest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. Ah, he knew too well the effect he had on her senses and usually Tifa would have smacked him for such arrogance, but right now, her knees were too weak to do anything.

But then his next words would have melted her anyway.

"Happy Anniversary, Tifa."

He then proceeded to show her exactly how happy of an anniversary it really was.

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Thank you: **.rEckLeSsLy. cOnFIneD.**, ToraTehNinja, **et cetera et cetera**, Spiritslayer, **kerapal bubbles**, Sacred3, **vLuna**, StrifeVsTribal, **JessicaJ**, alexzhou04


	22. Decollete

**WORD OF THE DAY ****(June 3, 2011)**

**Decollete **

_Adj. 1. (Of a garment) low-necked._

_2. Wearing a low-necked garment._

Cloud Strife wished that he were a good man.

Other people would say that he was a good man. _She _would say that he was a good man.

However, they—not even _she_—could read his mind, and right now, as he stared at Tifa in her evening dress, his thoughts were decidedly Not Good. In fact, they were downright Naughty.

But honestly, who could blame him?

It wasn't every day he got to see the most beautiful woman in the world wearing a slinky blue dress that just begged him to take her out of it. Well, actually, he _did_ get her out of her clothes every day—and if he could help it, several times a day. But the clothes he got her out of was definitely Not That.

Because That…That was a piece of work.

Made of a soft, lightly shimmering material that clung lovingly to her curves, The Dress was every man's dream come true. A single strap sliced diagonally from her shoulder to the hollow beneath the opposite arm, and while the neckline was not scandalously decollete, it embraced the unmistakable fullness of her breasts like a lover's touch. The light-weight material flowed down in a single, elegant fall and accentuated the flare of her hips, the hem ending at the knee on the strapless side and tapering to a longer trailing length on the side of the strap.

In the color of the Nibelheim skyline at dusk, The Dress set off Tifa's smoke-shaded eyes and called attention to the single, simple silver chain that circled her neck. At the bottom of the chain hung a thick ring decorated in the shape of a wolf's head. It brushed against her skin and made Cloud wish that he were that piece of crafted metal.

There was nothing ostentatious or loud about it, but it caught everyone's attention regardless. It was…simple femininity, and it threw him in a stupor.

Tifa met his eyes with a small, sheepish smile. For whatever reason, she'd always been shy about dressing up. He didn't think it was because of lack of confidence in herself, but because she hated all the attention. Which she always, always got. In spades.

Unable to stop himself—not that he really tried—he walked straight up to her and without preamble pressed a lingering kiss on her lips. When they parted, he knew his eyes were darkened and it gratified him to see her reluctant to pull back.

"Are you sure you want to go out for dinner tonight? We could always stay in…" he tempted, voice low and filled with promise.

It was immensely satisfying to see her teeth tug at her bottom lip in honest contemplation. However, in the end she nodded. "We made these reservations three months ago. We're going."

With an exaggerated sigh, Cloud moved to her side and draped a possessive arm over her shoulders. "Only for you, I'll spend the night keeping the vultures at bay."

Tifa snorted in quite the unladylike manner. "All you'd have to do is glare at them and they wouldn't dare come near. Last time we went out, you even scared our waiter away."

"The kid was trying to make a move on you."

"He was pouring me wine."

"While he tried to look down your dress."

"Which is what _you_ always do," she countered.

"Yeah, but the difference is that _I'm allowed_."

She rolled her eyes, but Cloud knew that she didn't mean it because she leaned more heavily into his body.

Five years. They'd been married for five years, and it felt so good to be able to banter with her so freely now. Their marriage wasn't perfect, and he was sure that he drove Tifa nuts more often than not, but they were together, and they loved with a ferocity that would have frightened him if it weren't for the fact that it was Tifa.

Cloud wasn't a good man, but he was a damned lucky one.

Besides, Tifa liked his Not Good thoughts.

He couldn't wait to start working on them tonight.

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A/N: I actually debated for a while whether I should post this at all because I didn't particularly like it. I started out with one idea and then I drifted away and then had to force the theme at the end. Yikes. But then I decided it's fluff, and we can never have too much Cloti fluff. :P

Thanks: **Writer Chica, **Jing Yee, **ledah13**, Iris Irine, **twittytwonkers**, kerapal bubbles, **mom calling**, Linnorria, **paperpieces**, et cetera et cetera, **Sacred3**, Spiritslayer, **vLuna**, randomcat23


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